Precede the Premonition
by DetectiveDannoWilliams
Summary: When Metatron takes everything from Dean, to what lengths will he go to get the things he loves back? T for language, violence, gore and torture. None of it should be worse than is in the show.
1. Chapter 1

**SUMMARY:** A story following Dean after the events of the Season 8 finale some time afterwards. When Sam and Cas are taken from Dean, what will he go through to get them back? Dean/Cas pairing – fluff only. Complete focus on Dean for the majority, re-introduction of main characters in later chapters. Strong language, torture, gore – about as much as would be expected from the show. I'll do my best to update weekly.  
**A/N:** This is a very Dean-centric fic that's set in the future of the show, so there are spoilers from Seasons 1-8. You might notice differences in the underlying plot to the show's, though it was unavoidable for this story to work. Dean getting whumped a lot with Dean/Cas fluff later. No slash.  
Big thanks to my friend Ffion for the original plot idea, and big thanks to the support, suggestions and fantastic beta-ing from my friends Izzy and Jess (AKA Cas and Sam). Couldn't have done this without you guys.  
Warnings for: Strong language that shouldn't be worse than in the show and (if I've done this right) disturbing imagery and graphic depictions of gore that, again, won't be worse than what you've seen on the show. That is unless you have a very vivid imagination. Torture, too.  
**DISCLAIMER:** I have no connections to TheCW, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Brothers, or any of their affiliates. I do not own anything relating to the series, other than merchandise. The original Supernatural was created by Eric Kripke. I found the poem used at the start on a website that I can't find the link to. Apologies and credit to the author.  
I have not been paid to write this; it is simply for my enjoyment, and hopefully the enjoyment of others too. My nattering is done so please enjoy.

Chapter 1

"The world in a thousand colours  
Swirls of light and dark  
Mixing fairly with the people  
Drawing between the colours meet  
Never to admit defeat  
Where does one end and the other begin  
Or do we find them much the same  
Colours fighting colours blighting to be cleansed by the rain  
Such confusion this I know  
For the Bible tells me so  
Soon they'll switch and then we'll find  
Conflict coming up to shine."

"Cas!"  
The man in the trench coat threw his angel blade to his friend who grabbed it and thrust it quickly into the chest of a demon who ran straight for him.  
"Dean!" The man in question removed the blade from the demon's host's body and tossed it to his brother.  
Sam caught the blade by the handle and sliced the throats of two demons who were trying to get to Cas.  
After checking that more demons weren't coming, Dean treaded around bodies and briefly searched for the demon blade that had been given to Sam by Ruby years ago, though he couldn't find where he'd dropped it earlier.  
The three men regrouped quickly, turning around, searching for the next enemy that would surely appear.  
Panting lightly, Dean said "Crowley becoming human, my ass!"  
Sam allowed a smile to creep across his face. He passed the angel blade to Dean and nodded, swallowed and tilted his head towards Castiel. "At least we're alright, with no more angels on their way."  
"Yeah, I guess." Dean cocked his head towards the mass of bodies, some of which had left imprints of wings on the ground. "You good, Cas?" Dean turned to look at his friend.  
The ex-Angel's face was scrunched up, as though he was concentrating hard.  
"Cas?"  
Castiel closed his eyes tight and placed his hands over his ears. He dropped to his knees with a soft thud that sounded deafening to the sudden silence that engulfed the three friends.  
The Winchesters rushed to Cas, Sam kneeling beside him, and Dean directly in front the crouched man.  
"Cas, what's wrong?" Dean looked up at his friend's face, trying to discern the expression crossing it.  
"Sam," Cas muttered. It was barely audible, and it sounded pained.  
"What?"  
"Sam... Was wrong." Cas had began speaking loudly now. "More angels are coming."  
Castiel doubled over, pressing his hands to his ears as hard as he could, trying to block out the high pitched resonating apparently only he could hear. "Just... One very powerful angel," he corrected. "I... I think I recognise the voice. I can't-"  
Sam stood and stepped away from his brother and friend, peering into the twilight. He looked over the clearing and into the tree line, ignoring the bodies of angels and demons that littered the dark greenery. Spotting something catch the light a few feet away, he stooped to pick up the demon blade, then returned to standing and surveying. He listened for anything out of place, though all he heard was Cas' heavy breathing. No rustling of the leaves or branches of the trees that surrounded them. No animals, no wind, nothing.  
"We need to get out of here, Dean."  
"I was thinking the same thing," Dean stood facing his brother and then turned to Cas. He stole a quick glance at his watch. It read 11:31pm.  
Still kneeling on the muddy field, clearly in pain from the sound only he could hear, Cas looked up to Dean, as if about to say something. Then, suddenly, the tension in his shoulders disappeared. He removed his hands from his ears. His face softened out to the normal expression Cas wore.  
There was a sudden quaking in the ground, wind and a horrible wailing that passed as quickly as it had arrived, lasting only a few short seconds. It was followed by a swift swish.  
"What the hell was that?" Sam had rushed back over to stand beside Dean.  
"Ahem."  
The three men stood side-by-side and turned in unison, tensing as they saw Metatron in the centre of the field. "That would have been me."  
Dean raised his weapon as Sam did the same, though with a casual flick of Metatron's wrist, the knives flew off in opposite directions.  
"I gave you an option, Castiel. An opportunity. I told you to go and live your life, make a family. You had the chance to do what humans did. And yet you ignored me and tried getting angels back to my heaven. After everything I did to repay you for your help. And the Winchesters assisted you during the whole process. They are a bad influence on you, Castiel. I will give you one last opportunity; leave now and have a normal life. Live!"  
"I would never turn my back on my family, Metatron."  
The Archangel shrugged. "Family? Well, I shouldn't act surprised. I assumed you'd say as much. Though I am curious about something... You somehow managed to get the grace and wings back for all of these angels. Why is it that you didn't attempt to get yours? And why, after all you did for them, did they turn against you?"  
Cas looked at his feet, suddenly seeming very small, like a young child who felt guilty and was preparing for a row. "I don't know."  
"Hmm," Metatron looked curious. Then, spotting the glares directed at him by the men stood either side of the fallen angel, he smiled crookedly. "Nice to see you again Sam, Dean."  
Neither of the Winchesters responded, though Dean moved closer to Cas and put his left arm around his trench coat covered shoulders.  
Castiel looked at Dean quickly, as if to check that it was his friend. Upon confirmation that it was him, Cas looked at the ground again.  
Metatron shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. He spread his arms slightly, lifting them from his sides and stated "This is your final opportunity, Castiel. Leave now and you will not be harmed."  
Cas stood up straight and leant into Dean's touch slightly. "No."  
"Are you sure?" Anger subtly grew within the man, suddenly making his presence much bigger than it should've been.  
"You heard the man," Sam stated gruffly. "Go to Hell."  
Metatron allowed annoyance to play its way across his features briefly before he became indifferent to the eye again. "Very well. You now leave me with no choice," he stated matter-of-factly.  
Before any of the men had a chance to react, a brilliant light of pure white engulfed them.

All Dean could see now was colour. It was like every moment of his life had been blended into one. He was in the middle of it, but it seemed like he was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He couldn't move or speak, simply observe. Swirling pictures showed themselves and then faded back into the foggy rainbow. He couldn't tell which direction he was facing, or how far away the colourful vortex was, though it was not disorientating somehow.  
He saw his parents with Sam as a baby. He was confused straight away as he didn't even know he could remember that far back.  
The next moment he was sat in the Impala beside Sam on their way for a few years ago. He didn't even know how he knew where or when he was, but somehow, he just knew it was 2006 and they were heading towards Texas. He saw the Roadhouse with Ellen, Jo and Ash briefly. He was in Hell the next. Red and orange stained the multicoloured images swirling around him, which dissipated quickly as it was drowned out with white. Dean felt a burning in his shoulder, and Cas' face appeared, his eyes an unbelievable blue. The next second he saw Bobby. He became pale quickly, and Dean knew he was now a ghost. His surrogate father burst into flame, and his face was covered by Benny's. The background behind his vampire friend became a muddy, green and grey combination. Back in Purgatory with monsters wasn't a great feeling. Castiel emerged again, muddy and tired-looking, before melting into the background. He saw Sam as he was about to cure Crowley, and then as he collapsed against the side of the Impala, Dean saw the angels fall. Cas' whole family burning through the sky as they succumbed to gravity, unable to escape the force. He saw everything that had happened over the past few months, as Sam got better and he found Cas. He saw them travelling together and seeing Kevin. It was very foggy, but he saw himself with Cas in a field. It seemed much brighter than normal. They were in heaven somehow. Suddenly he, Cas and Sam were in some sort of battle. The fight raged for a while. Bodies fell as they charged at three men who miraculously kept the fight up against a mass of angels and demons. He saw the pain in Cas' eyes as he had to kill blood to protect his friends. He saw the bodies pile up, and the blackened wings singed into the grassy ground on which they lay. Metatron appeared and Dean tried to flinch away as he saw the white light grow.

Dean sat up, panting. He was stunned at the dream he had just had.  
He muttered to himself "Damn. I need to stop drinking before bed." Dean rubbed his eyes and blinked heavily a few times. It was pitch black. "Sam!?"  
Silence was his only reply.  
"Sammy?"  
He heard nothing again.  
Something that lay a few feet away caught his eye. He moved towards it slowly. It was a small glass bottle containing a flowing liquid-like substance that seemed to generate its own iridescence. The glow beckoned and he picked it up. The lid on the bottle had a chain attached as if it had been worn as a necklace.  
Dean suddenly got this sinking feeling in his gut that something was horribly wrong as the substance reminded him of something that he couldn't place. He was sure he'd seen it before, he just didn't know where.  
"Cas!"  
He again got no reply.  
The silence encasing him was horrible. It was stifling and everywhere. There was literally nothing to hear apart from his own breathing and heartbeat. There was no rustle of leaves on the trees or animals moving. It was deafening.  
Dean picked up the bottle and pulled the chain over his head and tucked it inside his t-shirt.  
Knowing that he needed to find out what had happened and needing to find his brother and friend, he felt around a bit, and fortunately came across his duffle bag beside his feet.  
He rummaged through it blindly until his fingers came in contact with what felt like a flashlight.  
Dean switched it on and tried to stand. As soon as he put a lot of weight on his right leg, he collapsed to the floor quickly.  
His head collided with a rock as he landed.

Dean woke slowly. Before he opened his eyes, he registered a dull throbbing in his head and he groaned.  
He opened his eyes and sat up to find that it was a clear blue morning without a single cloud littering the pure colour.  
Spotting the flashlight beside him, Dean picked it up and switched it off as it was still faintly causing the grass around it to appear a shade lighter than the rest.  
He stood slowly, timidly testing his weight on his right leg. It was fine.  
_Must've slipped on something._ He stood, turning, searching for-  
"SAMMY!" Dean took off like a rock salt bullet from a shotgun, sprinting towards the still figure he saw lying face-down in the grass. His heart was pounding loud and fast, but it seemed as though he was moving in slow motion.  
Dean fell to his knees beside Sam's shoulder and gently rolled his brother's body over, looking for any signs of him waking.  
There were none.  
Sam stayed exactly the same.  
He was cold to the touch.  
The older brother leaned over the younger and listened for breathing, hoping that he'd feel a warm breeze on his cheek.  
He felt none.  
"SAM!"  
Dean made no attempt to hold back the tears that began spilling from his eyes and onto Sam's plaid shirt, leaving darker patches on the material.  
He sat beside Sam for what felt like hours, though was no longer than twenty minutes, apologising for what had happened and why it should have never come to this. "I love you, Sammy. I'm so sorry."  
Dean finally took his eyes off his brother's face and he noticed a small black patch on the ground beside him.  
This time, Dean didn't even need to look further before his eyes filled again, distorting everything he could see. This patch wasn't the same as the rest that littered the field because Dean recognised the feathered tips. Even though he knew there should have been no distinction between these and the others, but there was a sense of familiarity bubbling in his stomach straight away. Standing, he looked down to the patch at his feet and followed it to the right. The pattern showed the feathers to be beautifully intricate. Unlike the other wings he had stood on that decorated the clearing, Dean ensured that he walked around them. He traced the patter with his eyes several times, until he was sure that the whole thing was burned into his retinas. Dean's heartbeat increased again and the wing widened, inevitably bringing him closer to the body.  
Dean fell to his knees again when he saw the still form. He headed towards his best friend and gazed at the beautiful blue eyes that stared unseeing at the sky. Dean gripped Cas' hand as he'd done many times as he comforted his friend after he lost his grace, though the contact was of no comfort to him now. Sure that he'd cried himself dry, he was slightly surprised as warm tears trickled down his cheeks. Again muttering apologies to the body, Dean leant in closer to Castiel's face and gently closed his Cas' eyes with his thumb and index finger."Cas I... I love you."  
He remembered the bottle and pulled it from under his shirt to look at it. He was suddenly hit with why it seemed familiar to him. Uriel had kept Anna's Grace like that.  
Cas' grace was in the bottle. He couldn't tell if it was some sick sort of present from Metatron or if it was something that the archangel thought to be just. After taking everything that Dean had left from him, Metatron gave Dean his best friend's grace. Though that made Dean wonder how Cas' wings were singed around him. The bottle was rather small... _Maybe Metatron gave Cas the rest back as a sort of burial?  
_One thing that Deanwas now sure of was the fact that he wouldn't stop until that bastard was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A/N: So the second is here. This is set two days after the events at the end of chapter 1. Please see the author's note at the beginning of chapter 1 for the disclaimer. Enjoy!

-  
"Come on you black eyed son of a bitch!"  
Dean spread his arms out from his sides, turning in a circle, waiting for the twenty third Crossroad Demon to appear against the darkness of the cold, crisp evening.  
Each of the last twenty two attractively dressed female Demons had turned down every deal he proposed to make. And every time, he had stabbed them through the chest with the demon-killing blade he'd been given by Ruby, leaving the body where it fell. He then dug through the rocky ground to retrieve the metal box containing his FBI ID Card, graveyard dirt, a black cat bone and yarrow. He then stormed into the Impala, throwing the box onto the seat beside him and drove until he came to the next crossroads, buried the box and repeated this apparently endless circle.  
He prayed that this time it would be different.  
And it was, though not in the way that Dean was hoping.  
As he turned, he heard a voice that he knew far too well instead of the sultry sounding women he had met.  
"Hello, Dean."  
"Crowley."  
"I hear you've been causing quite a ruckus that's been disrupting my lovely system, squirrel. I just had to come and see for myself."

"See what?"

"The sorry state I'd heard you were in." Crowley was leaning up against a tree beside the road casually, facing Dean and holding a handgun which he rested on his shoulder. He swiftly changed the subject by asking "What can the King of the Crossroads do for you today, for one night only?"  
"What can you do?" Dean stepped forward threateningly with an expression of mild confusion on his face. He yelled "You can bring my damn family back!"  
"I was sure that by now you would've grasped that that won't happen. Twenty two demons repeating the same message, and you still haven't got it." Crowley stood away from the tree, gaining a patronising tone when speaking to the one remaining Winchester. "I can't do that."  
"Can't? Ha! You mean won't!" He was becoming increasingly agitated and impatient.  
"Well of course I mean won't, Dean. Your jumbo-sized brother caused a lot of chaos for me when he tried to slam the doors to hell. He inconvenienced me greatly, which I didn't appreciate. Practically turning me human wasn't a great plan if you wanted to get into my good book! Yet, I digress. Your little boyfriend also screwed with me too many times. I told him I'd get my revenge. And this is the perfect way to do it under the dire circumstances we face. Don't you think for a second that I forgot everything you did to me either! That whole purification thing Moose did wasn't exactly what one might describe as fun. And how many times have you tried to kill me?"  
Dean's expression of anger became a sad one of resignation. "Please, Crowley." He looked to the floor and pushed the demon knife slowly into the back of the waistband of his jeans.  
"Oh boo hoo, you pussy," Crowley stepped forward, pulling the gun down to point at the floor from where it was resting on his shoulder. "Look, I don't have many virtues- well, actually, I have none. But if I did, I guess altruism would be one of them, and that's why I'm going to give you a dilemma. An... offer, if you will."  
Dean's head shot up, his eyes boring into Crowley's. He stepped forward now, interested, seeming hopeful for the first time in days.  
"You can either stop killing my crossroad demons and I'll give you ten minutes with the soul of your choosing. Or, I can make you stop killing my crossroad demons," Crowley cocked the gun, pointing it at Dean's chest and then pulling it away again. "As a rather more permanent assurance, and guarantee a fifty-per-cent chance that you will get to spend time with Jolly Green and, or Cassie. Or you could, of course, walk away but have a large amount of demons looking for you."  
Dean stood, staring at Crowley in silence. He didn't have a clue what to say.  
Crowley inhaled sharply. "As I said, this is a one night offer. And I'm sure you know that I am not patient, kitten."  
The hunter's mind was a battle between taking the first or second deal, or none at all. None of the options were very good for him, whichever way he looked at the scenario. He was a soldier and he knew when a battle was lost. But he couldn't help thinking about his chances of seeing Sam and Cas again. He knew they were slim.  
Crowley began tapping his foot restlessly and also shifted his weight back and fore from one leg to the other. "This deal is going fast," the demon warned. "Not long to pick your poison."  
Dean was still thinking for a further minute when Crowley stood straight again, cocked his head to the side and began counting "Ten, nine, eight, seven."  
Dean was considering his options now at dizzying speeds.  
"Six, five, four."  
_The first deal is good._  
"Three."  
_Would the second be better?  
_"Two."  
_It might not be.  
_"One."  
_Oh who am I kidding? They're terrible_.  
"Done. And what's your answer?"

_Screw it._  
"Neither." Dean's voice almost cracked.  
"What?"  
He coughed to clear his throat and stood up to his full height. "I don't want to make a deal with you."  
Crowley's face displayed mild confusion for a short moment as it swiped across his features before fading to indifference. "Fine by me, sweetheart."

In the moment that Crowley was pausing, Dean interjected "Why did you offer me the deal anyway? Like you said, we- I tried to kill you tons of times. We're not exactly on each others' Christmas lists, so why?"

"Well I'll be seeing you soon. I thought I might as well have a little fun with you while I have the chance when we're both on the planet..." He paused again, as if thinking out how to continue. "Oh, and by the way, you're just wasting your time if you go to another crossroad. I'm keeping my demons away from you. Well, for making deals, that is. And if you do somehow get to one, I assure you they won't make a deal."  
Dean's temper had gotten worse as Crowley kept talking. Now realising that he had no chance of getting any 'help' from any demons, he'd have a hard time getting this done. Especially since Crowley seems to really want him dead... "I don't give a rat's ass!"  
"Of course you do. That's why we're here, in this dance. But the music just stopped, sweetie. No more frolicking for now."  
"Go to Hell."  
"On my way." Crowley winked.  
"Next time I see you, I swear-"  
"Let me guess. You'll kill me?"  
"Damn straight."  
"Allow me to play this out for you, Dean. You will threaten me. I will act accordingly by simply ignoring your threats and continuing." Crowley then imitated Dean. "You son of a bitch. Blah, blah, blah." Returning to his normal voice, Crowley said "Witty retort from yours truly. There's one simple thing you're missing, Dean. You will die. It's unavoidable. I promise you that I am truly excited for the day when you fall into my lap, because on that day," Crowley coughed and again put on Dean's voice. "You're gonna be my little bitch."  
"Screw you, Crowley."  
"Oh I'd be delighted if you did, but I'd better be off. See you soon," Crowley disappeared.

Without truly realising what he'd been doing, Dean had stood staring at the spot that Crowley had disappeared from in a trance-like state for a few minutes before he had snapped himself out of it.  
He strode determinedly towards the Impala and he threw the door open. Dean flopped into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut as he turned on the ignition and revved the engine. Fuel spilled from the exhaust, forming an eerie cloud that glowed red due to the tail lights.  
Dean rammed his foot onto the accelerator and took off along the road, running over the box that he'd abandoned.  
He was done with these Demons and their games, not that Crowley would let him play anymore, though he knew what he'd try; playing a different game.  
Staring at the dirt road stretching out in front of him, Dean removed his phone from his coat pocket and called speed dial 4.  
He impatiently tapped the steering wheel in time with the infuriating buzzing that told him that the call was going through until he heard a click of the received being picked up. "Garth!"  
"Oh, hey Dean. It's two in the morning," the hunter replied sleepily, stifling a yawn.  
"I need your help."  
"What do you need?" Garth was now wide awake.  
"Do you know anything about how to summon an angel?" 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A/N: This continues straight from the end of chapter 2. Please see the author's note at the beginning of chapter 1 for the disclaimer.

-

"An angel?"  
"Yeah, Garth, an angel."  
Fitzgerald stuttered "I- uh- I heard that Sam and Cas were- um- killed. I'm sorry, Dean." Garth waited for a few moments to hear Dean's response, but the Winchester was silent for eight agonisingly long seconds.  
The eventual reply was gruff and deeper than normal. "Yeah, me too. Now do you know anything about summoning an angel or not?"  
"Yeah. You've done it before, right? Why do you need my help?"  
Dean thought back to when he'd prayed and used the summoning ritual that he and Sam knew worked from when they summoned Balthazar before. He'd been trying at times when he'd driven for hours and not come across another crossroad. He then booked into the nearest motel and tested different summoning rituals before getting a couple hours of sleep and eating. Nothing worked to get Metatron. "I tried the ways we knew from before."  
"What happened?"  
"Nothing, Garth. If it had worked, I wouldn't be calling you, would I?"  
"Okay, alright!" Garth yawned very loudly, unable to hold it back. "Uh- I'll have a look now," Garth said as he stood and flicked on lights near the couch he'd slept on. He looked around the piles of books that he had collected from Bobby's that had been given to him by Sam, and other stuff he'd picked up along the way from other hunters. He searched through a stack he had crudely labelled 'Angels', looking for a specific book on mythology he knew was there somewhere.  
Garth found the dark leather-bound book that he wanted and riffled through pages until he found the one he was looking for. Then a thought came to him. "Wait, Dean. You're not trying to summon-?"  
"The bastard that broke heaven." The bitterness in Dean's voice was enough to tell Garth that he wasn't to press unless he wanted to be hurt next time he met Dean. He cleared his throat and told the other hunter "It says in this book how to summon an archangel, but it doesn't mention angels in general."  
"Great," Dean growled.

"Huh?"

"He's an Archangel. _The scribe of God_." His words were dripping with venom.  
"Oh." Garth was reading the crumpled page for the actual important information. He knew now was not a good time to mess around with Dean, so he skimmed it until he found the summoning instructions. "Okay. It says to say the name of the archangel and what you want it to bring. This is an example alright? Archangel Michael, come to me now and bring me beer."  
"And that will work with him?"  
"I think so, but-"  
Dean didn't hear the rest of what Garth had to say as he hung up the call and threw his phone down beside him. It bounced off the material and landed on the floor in front of the passenger seat.

***

Dean had spent almost the entirety of two days preparing for what he was about to do. The only time he wasn't thinking about or plotting the best way to summon Metatron was when he slept two hours a night.  
He had barely eaten anything for days and he had fallen into a destructive and bland world in his head, effectively cutting himself off from anyone and anything else.

Deciding that now would be the time, day and place, he turned on the radio loudly to a rock station so the blaring sound would drown out what he was about to do, or so he hoped. He gazed at the flickering glow of the green numbers on the cheap motel clock, reading 11:27pm.  
"Almost time," Dean muttered as he picked up two knives from the bed.  
He wasn't even sure that this would work, but he stood in the centre of his motel room, gripping the angel blade that Sam had passed to him in the field tight in his right hand, and the angel blade from Cas in his left.

Feeling incredibly stupid for even considering doing this, Dean closed his eyes and remembered that he should ask for help if he was in with a snowball of a snowball's chance of avenging Sam and Cas' deaths. So, he prayed. _Um, God? I, uh, know that you've helped me and Sammy before and I was kinda hoping you'd help me again. I know that Metatron is your son and your scribe or whatever, but I'm sure you know what he did was wrong. I'm just trying to bring justice to this. Wow that sounded stupid. Anyway, I'm gonna try and kill Metatron, and will you please help me do that, or forgive me if I succeed? Um, yeah. Thanks, uh. I mean, Amen._  
Dean opened his eyes and turned, ensuring that the curtains were closed, and began breathing slowly, trying to calm himself. Though, as much as he tried, he couldn't stop his heart racing.  
He looked at the clock again, and as he did, the numbers flickered from 11:27pm to 11:28pm.  
Dean squared his shoulders, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He counted ten seconds and then looked up, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling.  
"Angel Metatron! Come to me now and bring me my damn family!"  
There was a flash of brilliant white again that Dean cringed away from, and when it faded he saw an untidy man smirking in the centre of the motel room.  
"Hello, Dean. Sorry I couldn't meet your request. Can't bring back the dead. Though you have a piece of Castiel with you." He smiled and looked oddly comfortable, as if he were having a chat with an old friend.  
"Why did you give me his grace?" Dean squared his shoulders.  
"It seemed only right," Metatron shrugged. He walked around a little, observing the grubby room with a disapproving frown.  
"Alright, so you can't bring Sam or Cas back. But you can give me something good."  
"And what's that?" He seemed very confident with himself, as though he thought he was undefeatable.  
_I'll prove him wrong there. _"Vengeance."  
Dean lunged forward with his right arm outstretched, gripping the demon blade.  
Metatron flicked his wrist and sent Dean flying backwards across the room. He hit the hard floor in the kitchen area with a sickening crack.  
Luckily, the crack was caused by the gun in the back of his jeans' waistband hitting the tiles and not him, though he know that his elbows and back were going to be bruised and sore in the morning, if he lived until then.  
Dean groaned, but recovered quickly, hopping back up to his feet and going for the knives that had flown from his grasp.  
Metatron appeared in front of the man and simply pushed Dean back against a wall, holding him up by his throat. Dean's feet circled and moved uselessly inches from the ground, trying to kick the archangel. "You remind me of Castiel."  
Dean grabbed Metatron's vessel's wrist with both of his hands, trying to remove the tight grip from his neck that was crushing his windpipe.  
"You both had a lot of fight in you. Look where that got him. It will get you the same thing, Dean."  
The hunter was starting to panic, and he felt lightheaded due to the lack of oxygen getting to him. He was tiring, and every second made fighting harder. He couldn't loosen the angel's grip and he didn't know how to. But an idea popped up in his head as a distraction.

Dean spat at Metatron, getting a blob of saliva in his eye. Dots began dancing across his vision and his strength was quickly dissipating.  
Though brilliantly it had the desired effect. For a few seconds, Metatron was startled by being hit with the saliva which have Dean the opportunity to swing his leg out, kicking Metatron's legs out from underneath him causing Metatron to drop to the floor, taking Dean with him.  
Dean landed on all fours, coughing and struggling to regain his breath. His right knee collided with something sharp that lay on the floor causing his jeans and skin to rip. He looked over hastily to the clock on the bedside table. 11:30pm. He noticed a small red puddle left on the floor when he stood.  
Crap! Dean frantically looked for both blades, and found the angel blade beside the door to the bathroom. Turning, searching for the demon one, a reflection of light drew his attention, and he headed swiftly to where he was dropped, realising the demon blade had cut him. He coughed more and stood, again gripping the angel blade in his right hand and the demon knife in the other.

Metatron was slowly standing, looking very tired suddenly. He seemed to try and ready himself to continue fighting as he stood.

Dean checked the clock. It read 11:31pm. He prepared himself by exhaling slowly and checking the balance of the demon blade in his hand.  
As Metatron was still standing, Dean threw the knife. It hit the archangel in his right thigh, causing him to drop to his knees. He screamed of frustration and pain as a white glow emanated from the cut.  
Dean walked quickly towards Metatron and smiled down at the man when he stood a few inches from him. He grabbed the wooden handle of the knife with his left hand. "That," Dean said, twisting as he pulled the blade out of Metatron's body. "Was for Sam."  
With the angel blade in his right hand, he then thrust it upwards through Metatron's skull.  
As a brilliant white light again lit the room and Metatron shouted, Dean yelled "And that was for Cas!"  
Dean pulled the knife from the angel's head and stepped back as the light faded and his body slumped to the ground.  
Now, surrounding his body and snaking up the walls was a pair of wings like Cas', though there were more than one pair.  
"Overconfident son of a bitch was stupider than I thought," Dean laughed bitterly. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek with a confused swat as he didn't know how it had gotten there. He smiled as he looked at the angel's body and the very faint light that still tumbled from his wounds.  
He began to gather up his things, placing them in his duffle bag.  
He then placed a cheap plastic lighter in Metatron's right hand and filled a glass with whiskey which he put in the angel's left, allowing it to pour onto the carpet. Removing a packet of cigarettes from his inner jacket pocket, he pulled one out and stuffed it in his jeans before tossing the rest beside the body.  
Dean opened the door to his motel room and stuck his head out to look around the car park and close rooms to ensure that nobody was outside.

Nobody was.  
He took his duffle bag and jacket out to the Impala's trunk. In the car, he picked up a greasy rag he'd used when fixing up the car and stuffed it in his back pocket. When he got back to the room, Dean placed the room key on the bedside table and took the rag from his pocket. After quickly wiping down every surface in the room that could have held his prints, he went back to stand above Metatron.  
Dean took out the cigarette from his pocket and then lit it with his own lighter and skilfully threw it to the floor beside the spilled alcohol next to the angel's head.  
Leaving the room swiftly, closing the door behind him, Dean again checked that nobody was around. He got into the Impala without a backward glance and turned on the ignition, happy to hear his baby purr. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he noticed a tinge of yellow-orange in his rear-view mirror and smiled crookedly at the road ahead.  
He didn't look back.

***

Dean had been searching for months. He'd been to almost every state in the country twice, searching for someone who could give him useful information.  
He was unrecognisable to most who knew him before his brother and friend's deaths. His hair had gotten shaggy, and he had a beard. His eyes didn't seem to sparkle the way that they normally did when he looked at someone. They didn't seem to hold the same shocking green's usual vibrancy.  
Garth had run into him twice, though Dean refused to hunt now. Well, hunt anything besides Sam and Cas. Or hunt anything that might know a way to get them back.  
Dean was sure that they'd both be in Heaven. Of course, Cas would be. But, because of the trials that Sam did, and the purification part of the process that was present during them, Dean was sure he would've ended up with Castiel. And of course, he knew Bobby would be there too because of the second trial. Not to mention Ash and hopefully the Harvelles.  
Dean had pretty much accepted that he wasn't going to get them back, so he had been looking for a sure fire way to wind up in heaven.  
He'd been righting as many wrongs as he could, and he'd even started praying for forgiveness, even though he was sure it was a long shot.  
He hadn't found anything, and neither had Garth who had looked up everything he could on everything he could find about how to get a one way ticket up to Heaven.  
"Nothing. Zip."  
"Son of a bitch!"  
"I'm sorry, Dean. I looked in literally every book that I have, and every lore book that I don't have. The only actual writing on it was in the Bible, which doesn't even say what heaven is or what you have to do to get there. Following in Jesus' footsteps and that sort of stuff is what is specified as 'good', so you'd have to be doing that for your whole life. You know more about heaven than most, and every resource I've found is pretty useless."  
"Okay. Thanks for trying Garth."  
Dean had progressively gotten worse. He stopped taking calls from Fitzgerald. He stopped leaving his crappy motel rooms. He stopped eating and sleeping, too.  
Every day, he just sat on the bed, staring at a wall with his thoughts eating away at him.  
One day, he snapped out of his trance of gazing at the mouldy wallpaper and picked up his mobile and called speed dial 1.  
"This is Agent Page's cell phone. I can't answer the phone now so leave a message with your name and number. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."  
Dean then called the second speed dial.  
The automated voice read out the number and then Dean heard Cas shout angrily "I still don't understand why you want me to leave a greeting message!"  
A smile crept onto his face.  
Then, he called the third speed dial.  
"Singer's Auto. Can't answer your call now, but leave a message and I'll get back to you when I can."  
Dean's eyes began to fill up as he thought back over the voices of his friends that had all left him.  
Something caught the light glinting through the gap in the curtains. The object sat at the top of Dean's duffle bag. It was his favourite handgun; the beautiful silver one with the engraved slide and the mother of pearl plated handle.  
As he looked at the gun from across the room, Dean dialled the fourth speed dial and held the phone up to his ear.  
"Dean?"  
"Hey, Garth."  
"Why the hell haven't you been answering your phone?! You had me worried sick, ya idjit!"  
Dean laughed a little, though it sounded false to his own ears. "Can I ask you a favour?"  
"Sure. Anything."

"Promise me you'll do it?"

"Come on Dean, I-"

"Promise me, Garth!"

Dean heard Garth sigh. "Fine. I promise."  
"I buried Sam and Cas at Bobby's after - everything - happened. They're in separate coffins near the back of the house. Will you make sure you salt as burn their bones?"  
"Okay. I understand why you don't want to do it."  
"And one more thing?"  
"Yeah."  
"I need you to salt and burn mine too." 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A/N: This continues straight on from the last chapter.  
-

"What? Dean! No!" Garth panicked. He couldn't believe this was happening.  
"You said you'd do anything, Garth," Dean stated. He was determined that Garth would do this for him. After all, he had nobody left to make sure he had the hunter's funeral he needed.  
"I-" He couldn't do this. He didn't know how to promise to bury Dean. He'd seen so many die in the years he'd been a hunter, and Sam, whom he considered a friend, was dead. And he knew now that Dean would shortly be too. This was the absolute worst part of the job.  
"Please?" Dean pleaded.  
"Dean-" Surely, he couldn't handle this.  
"You promised!" Dean's voice cracked.  
So did Garth's heart. "Okay. Fine, yeah, I'll do it."  
Dean breathed out quickly, not even realising he'd been holding it. "Thank you." He seemed to suddenly became hoarse. "I'm - uh - in a motel in South Dakota, not far from Bobby's. I'm booked in under Joe Elliott."  
"Don't be stupid Dean! You can't do this! We can get past this togeth-"  
"No. You know what I can't do, Garth? Live like this! I don't have anyone else! You are the only person I have left and I'll be damned if I die after you! I am done! You understand me? Done."  
"Okay, Dean. Why don't we just talk about this-"  
"I'm not gonna talk, Garth. You promised me. You'd better follow up on it or I swear I'll haunt your ass. I'm staying at The Rose, room 11. Thank you, for everything. I'll see you on the flip side. Not too soon, I hope."

"Don't you dare go now ya idjit!"  
Dean didn't hear the rest of what Garth had to say as hung up the phone and threw it against the far wall of the room. It bounced off and landed on the tiled floor, the back coming off and the battery flying out as the screen shattered.  
He then slowly walked over to the duffle bag and picked up his gun. Turning it over gently in his hands, he went back to the bed and sat down. He ran his fingers along the engraving in the metal, tracing the pattern that he knew so well. Dean couldn't really see the pattern clearly as it swam due to the tears welling up in his eyes, distorting everything.

Dean exhaled shakily and carefully put the gun on the bad beside him as he stood. He swiped at his face to stop the tears trickling down his cheek as he walked towards the kitchen area of the motel room to pick up his remaining bottle of whisky.

Dean downed a quarter of the bottle in one gulp where he stood, wincing at the strength of the alcohol. He drank the remaining liquid in sips, again perched on the edge of the uncomfortable bed.

Laughing at himself, Dean thought about how he picked a crappy motel to die in. The bed didn't even have magic fingers. _Wow, this sucks. _But before he had more time to wish he'd gone for a slightly more expensive room, he found himself tipping an empty bottle back, only a couple of drops of the cheap whisky staying stubbornly in the crease at the bottom of the glass.  
Dean bent down to place the bottle on the floor at his feet, and as he sat up, he picked up his gun again and gripped it loosely in his hand, testing the weight that he was overly familiar with.  
Dean sat up on the bed with his back straight and closed his eyes. He figured that since he was leaving the realm of the living, he should say something. Not really having any idea what to say, or to whom he should say it, he went with his default recipient.  
"Cas, I don't know if you can hear me, but I want you to know I believe in you. I know I killed Metatron, but it was just. That whole 'eye for an eye' thing that God goes on about in the Bible should count for something, right? I mean the big guy has to consider a lot of things when choosing whether someone goes on his nice list or Crowley's." Dean's voice was as far from steady as he remembered it ever being, making him feel very stupid. He paused, considering leaving it at that, but figured he might as well keep going. "I've, uh, done everything I can, and I'm out of options. So this is the only way I have a chance of seeing you and Sammy again. Bobby too, I guess. Look, I tried everything. And it was all useless. I can't do anything else that has even a tiny chance of getting you guys back, and-" Dean paused again, drawing in a shaky breath before saying "I'm sorry, buddy. I hope you heard me today, and- Oh, Cas, I hope this works and I'll see you soon. But if not, tell Sammy I said goodbye, okay? I miss you, man. Alright, well that's it, I guess. Uh, amen."  
Dean opened his eyes, and looked down at the gun in his hand, and then towards the clock on his bedside table. It read 11:30pm. Perfect timing.  
Dean lifted his gun to his right temple and stared at the clock. His eyes filled and a smile grew on his face, lighting up his features from within. His eyes seemed to sparkle again, the green somehow a brighter shade.  
The numbers on the clock flicked forwards to 11:31pm and Dean applied a little pressure with his index finger to the smooth metal trigger it rested on.

***

Dean jumped up off the bed in surprise at the deafening sound that should have left his ears ringing and the flash that should have affected his vision.  
He turned to look at one of the room's walls which was had been redecorated with a garish blood splatter and tiny clumps of brain matter. Gazing down at the far side of the bed, he saw that the sheets had been stained too. Moving his stare closer to where he stood, he saw a large pool of dark red liquid. He was lying in the centre.  
He couldn't take his eyes off the gaping black hole in the side of his head for a few agonisingly long moments until he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder.  
He turned to see a beautiful woman. "Tessa?"  
"Dean." Tessa looked sad as she greeted the man with a hug. "Not being a ghost for a day again, then?"  
"No, not this time. Did I miss the big guy?"  
Tessa nodded her head to the side and looked at something over Dean's shoulder.  
He turned to see a suited man sat on the end of his bed as far from Dean's body as possible. He sat awkwardly with his right leg crossed over the left, leaning on a walking stick. "Hello, Dean."  
"Hey. I - uh - never really thanked you for what you did for my brother with his soul, so thanks."  
"I was simply repaying the favour," he inclined his head and a small smile danced across his features.  
"I need to ask you one more. I know I won't be able to pay you back, but-"  
"You want to know if I can put in a good word for you to get you to heaven," he interrupted smoothly.  
Slightly taken aback, Dean coughed and said "Yeah, I guess."  
Death looked at Dean in a way that made the latter feel as though he was being judged by the former, though in a way that seemed almost friendly. It wasn't negative, but as if Death pitied Dean.  
Death sighed and asked Dean "What would you do for repayment?"  
"Anything." Replying in less than a heartbeat, he spoke sincerely, without a trace of sarcasm or mocking in the way that he would normally.  
"Very well," Death paused and moved away from the spirit and the reaper, then added "You've been steadily climbing my list. It's a good thing I've been watching what you've done over the past months. I will do my best, though as you know, I have no control over what will happen to you. I doubt I'll see you again, Dean. Good bye, and good luck."  
Death disappeared, and for a few moments, Dean looked at where he had been standing, attempting to understand what the Horseman's ulterior motives would lead to, but was too overcome with surprise to ponder for long.  
"Dean."  
He turned to see Tessa with her arm outstretched, her hand an inch from his. "Are you ready?"  
Dean exhaled slowly, and looked into the reaper's eyes. "I don't know. Am I?"  
Tessa smiled sadly. "You know that only you can really know. You learned that on work experience."  
Dean tried not to laugh, so the last comment made him snort, which turned into hysterical laughter that left his eyes watering. " So you can't even give me a small hint where I'm going, huh?"

Tessa looked at him as if he'd stated that he was the Pope. "That would ruin the surprise, don't you think?"  
"Hmm." The newly deceased cleared his throat, and said "Okay, let's do this." He reached his arm out and grabbed Tessa's cool palm.  
They walked towards the motel door, which seemed different somehow. It hadn't changed in appearance, but Dean felt some sort of additional presence there that he couldn't describe. When they were a short distance from it, Tessa said "See you around, Dean." Standing up on her toes, she planted a quick kiss on Dean's cheek. She looked at Dean, checking for confirmation to move on. When he nodded, she tugged his hand and led him into the unknown.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A/N: This continues straight on from the last chapter.

Dean groaned. He must've blacked out. "Sammy?"  
And then all of his memories came flooding back to him. He kept his eyes shut tight, because he knew where he was instantly.

The first thing he really felt upon waking was the incredible pain in his wrists and ankles where he was sure, like before, hooks were suspending him spread-eagled. But still, he kept his eyes closed.

The smell of burning flesh and blood was overpowering, as well as the heat. He was already covered in sweat.

With his eyes closed, his hearing was slightly better too, and he could hear screams from what seemed like a mile away from every direction. Yells of pain, and people bellowing for help were horrible, but not as bad as the laughing he heard. The laughing of several demons that had taken on Alistair's job after the demon's death could be heard all too clearly, thoroughly enjoying their new jobs. Dean even made out one or two echoing from far below.  
"Aaaah!" There was a sudden searing pain in his abdomen and he opened his eyes to stare at his stomach. Another hook had appeared out of nowhere, attached to a heavy chain and had embedded itself just below his ribcage on the right. A large amount of blood welled up around the hook and began spreading along his chest, staining his khaki t-shirt brown.

More burning pain rushed along his legs as they were sliced and cut skilfully and quickly. He looked down his body to see his torn jeans hanging off him in shreds.  
Dean's chest was now being cut into with some awful knife that left no pain when he was cut, but began hurting brilliantly after a few moments. It was as if a meat-cleaver sized scalpel was cutting him, down to the bone.

He had no idea what could have been doing it as there were no demons visible, but an ecstatic voice appeared beside him. "Dean Winchester! It's been a while. How've you been? Glad to be back? I sure am."

Now panicked, Dean exclaimed "Leave me alone, you son of a bitch!"

"Nah. My boss, the King, y'know, your buddy, told me I had to give you an extra special treatment. And I'm not planning on disobeying Mr. Crowley any time soon."

Dean's breathing came as short gasps around the pain in his heaving chest.

"This time's slightly different. You won't get the opportunity to get off the rack. You're stuck on here as long as that's the plan. Get used to it, Winchester. Your soul's stuck here forever now. No angels to pull you out." The demon began giggling and told Dean gently "I'll be right back. Just gotta go get my drill."

Dean's shallow breaths turned into hyperventilation. He was experiencing his first panic attack since he was five. He had no way to stop it but ride it out, and when he finally calmed down a little, he put every ounce of his energy into yelling "SOMEBODY HELP MEEEEEE!"

***

"Dean, wake up."

Dean sat up straight quickly after hearing the gruff voice.

"Cas?" Dean stood, turning in the middle of the forest he was somehow in. "Where are we?"  
"You don't know?"

Dean just looked at the angel, confused. "Uh, no."

Castiel looked at the hunted impatiently. "Where do monsters go when they die?"

"We're-? We're in Purgatory?"  
"Yes."

"How?"

Cas looked around him into the bleak midday scenery, searching for anyone, or anything, that may sense their presence. "The weapon that we used was created by God. It was more powerful than I expected in the... State that I was in at the time. Evidently when it sent the Leviathans here, and as we were in close proximity to the leader being dragged here, we were dragged along with it."

"Oh. You seem, uh, different," Dean observed.

Cas looked at Dean as if he had been insulted.

"No, I don't mean anything bad, you just seem, better, I guess."

"You're trying to ask me if I'm still crazy, yes?"

Dean smiled apologetically.

"I am not Crazy, Dean."

"Good." Dean now looked around him by turning in a circle on the spot. All he saw was the forest, though it seemed eerily familiar. He didn't see anything worth noting. "Well, any ideas on how we get out of here, Cas?" He turned back to see Castiel facing him angrily.

"How do we get out?!" Cas was very angry. It was frightening. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, Dean. So _please _don't ask me how _we _get out of Purgatory. I told you I didn't want to be involved in this, and yet you dragged me into it nonetheless!"

Dean held up his hands in front of him. "Whoa, Cas. Calm down." _This isn't right. _Dean thought, again looking at the trees. _It didn't happen like this._

Cas looked at Dean in a way that made the hunter think that the angel was contemplating the best way to kill him. _We didn't fight. He took off._

"Dean!" Cas instantly changed to being scared. "There's something coming."

"Cas something's wrong."

"Yes, I know, Dean! There is a large group of monsters on their way to kill us!

"No, I don't mean that. I mean this is wrong. _This! _Here, now, this! It's different."

"Different to what?"

"Just listen to me, Cas. I've been here before, with you. When we got here, it was night, and there was a big-ass group of Levis on your tail. You mojo'd out to draw them away from me, and I found you a few days later. This never happened!"

Cas stared intently at Dean, hanging onto his every word. Dean stared right back, but he noticed a slight change in the angel's face. It suddenly grew into a huge smile. "We know."

"Cas?"

"Cas isn't here right now. He's, uh, gone!"

"Son of a bitch, this isn't real."

"No, Dean, it is."

"You are not being possessed by Leviathan, and we are not in Purgatory. This isn't real." Dean backed away from not-Cas, who was slowly advancing. He got a burst of realisation as to what happened which sent his heart racing. Though he knew Crowley, and how much he enjoyed head games. He wanted out. "I'm in Hell! I killed myself, and Crowley is messing with me!"

Cas cocked his head to the side, and quickly moved his right arm forward, throwing Dean away from him. Dean's head collided with a tree. 

Dean woke up again. He looked around, taking account of everything. _Awesome._ He was tied to a chair in a relatively dark, stone room. He didn't recognise anything other than a tray of pristine silver knives perched neatly on a table near his chair. _Crowley._  
"This had better not be another freaking dream!"  
"You're fortunate then, Dean," a recognisable voice said from the darkness. "Not a dream this time. Hell has ways of getting to your head. Well done, though. You spotted it faster than most people." Crowley stepped into the lightest patch of the room, in front of his chair, wearing a smartly tailored suit that was covered by a filthy, bloodstained white apron.  
"You took the plunge, I see. Not going out in a blaze of glory like I though you would, squirrel. I must say I am slightly disappointed."  
Dean remained silent, his eyes boring holes into Crowley's head.  
"You don't want to talk, fine. I'll just make the sodding conversation move along, shall I?"  
Crowley picked up a blade that was the same size as an average chopping knife, but seemed incredibly sharp. It may have been like the one that was used to cut Dean before. Remembering that, he looked down at his abdomen quickly. There was no blood, and his clothes were relatively clean again.  
"Let's have a chat, darling."  
Dean looked back up at Crowley. "Whatever you want to know, I'm not going to tell you."  
"There's nothing I want to know. I know all of your secrets already."  
Before Dean could respond, Crowley lunged, drawing a long line of blood from Dean's left forearm.  
Dean yelled out and pulled as hard as he could against his restraints, though nothing could stop the pain.  
The demon picked up a smaller knife and rammed it downwards into the hunter's right thigh, eliciting another cry of pain. "Son of a bitch!"  
Dean coughed several times, the last turning into laughter. It went back to a fit of coughs that left the Winchester gasping for air, though a stubborn smirk remained on his features.

Looking very irritated, Crowley asked "What?"

"Oh, nothing. I just remembered a joke is all."  
"Now Dean," Crowley stepped forward and put his hand on the side of Dean's face, lifting his head gently. "Why don't you tell me about what happened to your ex-lady friend and not-kid?"  
Dean's smile fell. "Don't talk about them."  
Crowley's face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. "Who? Lisa and Ben? You mean the family that you dumped? After making your boyfriend wipe their memories, no less." He paused, thoughtfully looking at something seemingly entertaining on the wall behind Dean's shoulder. "Maybe we should talk about little Cassie. He's probably forgotten about you by now, hasn't he? Up in heaven with all of his family, while you're stuck down here."  
"Shut up." The threat in Dean's voice was completely unmissable.  
"Or what?"  
Dean didn't know what to say. He couldn't kill Crowley. He couldn't really do anything but sit there and take everything on the chin.  
"Will you kill me? Of course not. The best way to die is to become close with you, isn't it, squirrel?" Moving forward now, Crowley crouched in front of Dean so both men could feel the hot breath of the other on their skin. Dark brown gazed into green eyes, an odd and disconcerting type of connection forming. "All of your family is dead. Hell, so are your friends. The only exceptions to that rule are the lovely aforementioned Lisa and Ben, and let's not forget dear Garth. Honestly, I don't know how they survived this long."  
Dean's eyes were involuntarily filling causing the demon to blur and move. His mouth curled downwards into a grimace and he breathed heavily through his nose to prevent himself for retorting and giving Crowley the satisfaction. _I'm going to break his nose._  
"It's probably your fault that they're all dead, apart from your mother. That was Sam's fault. But you, oh-" Crowley laughed and stood up straight now looking down at Dean. "You, Dean, made Daddy dearest sacrifice himself for you. Not to mention the many others. Ash buggered off to heaven, didn't he? Ellen and Jo blew themselves up for you. Lively little Meg was next. It seems like an endless amount of people are willing to catch bullets meant for you."  
"Stop," Dean muttered.  
"What was that? You want me to stop? Why should I? I'm just getting started." Without warning, Crowley lunges forwards again with the knife, piercing Dean's abdomen.  
Dean screamed, bending forward as far as his restraints would allow him in an attempt to shield himself. The tears that had welled up in his eyes now streamed down his cheeks. He started coughing again, though each one seemed to pull at the wound and bring him more pain. Nearing the end of the fit, he began coughing up blood which he spat onto the floor at Crowley's feet. He was aiming for the expensive Italian leather shoes, but considering he'd been stabbed, he didn't think it was that bad a shot.  
Crowley threw the blade onto the table holding the rest and pushed Dean's shoulders backwards so he was sat against the back of the chair again, forcing all of the air from Dean's lungs. Looking into the Winchester's eyes again and smiling cruelly, he continued, "What about Frank, who protected you well? What about Chuck, or Pamela? Let's not forget she sacrificed her sight for you, and then proceeded to die for you and Jolly Green. That's not even mentioning all of the angels that died because of you. Hundreds dead in Heaven, and on earth. Gabriel went on a suicide mission in your battle against Lucifer."

Dean was having a little trouble focusing on what Crowley had to say now as the pain in his abdomen was becoming increasingly worse. And the way that he was being held back by Crowley was keeping it more open than if he could slouch or lean into it. He had to grit his teeth to stop showing how much pain he was actually in.

"Now, your family..." Crowley feigned hearing something far away. "'What family?' you ask? Well, that's a very good question!" He turned back to Dean and continued "Your surrogate father; Bobby Singer. After everything Bobby did for you, you couldn't save him. You killed one of your only friends; Benny so you could help Moose get him out of hell. You helped, though it was, admittedly, a pretty piss-poor job. Then your little guardian angel-"  
"Don't you dare mention Cas!" The words were slurred and grunted out through Dean's teeth.  
Crowley shouted, "Castiel, the angel of Thursday killed so many of his own for you! Samandriel was one. But don't forget Balthazar. He helped you and the Big Galoot get to your boyfriend, and he killed Balthazar!"  
Dean looked down. "Shut up! Just stop it now dammi-" The patch of blood on his shirt had seemed to stop growing, and the wound was slowing down the bleeding, though he had still lost a large amount of blood, and it was really draining him.  
Pausing for only a short moment whilst he regained his breath, Crowley stated loudly, almost drowning out Dean's plea, "He sacrificed a lot for you, Dean. I'm sure you don't you know the half of it! Castiel gave up his place in Heaven and rebelled for you! He killed for you; an insignificant little 'hairless ape'. He's gone, squirrel." Crowley softened his tone. "But not completely gone. Am I correct in thinking that? Of course I am, except he's in Heaven with every other member of your family, other than Daddy dearest."  
Crowley stared at Dean, and it seemed as though he didn't even blink for a whole minute. His gaze was only on the man's face for a few seconds before it shifted to his chest.

Dean glared back at Crowley, clenching and unclenching his jaw and tightly gripping the arms of his chair. "What," was the only response that he could grind out without showing how much pain he was really in.  
"That lovely little necklace you've got."  
Dean glanced down at his chest unintentionally.  
"Can I have a look?" Crowley asked in a sing-song voice.  
"Go screw yourself."  
"Hmm..." Crowley put his hand down the neck of Dean's shirt as much as the latter attempted to avoid the demon by shifting side-to-side in the chair slightly.  
"Hey, I don't swing that way." He couldn't move much as it would pull his injuries which would cause a new immense flare of pain to spike.  
"Oh yes I'm so very sure of that," Crowley said with a giggle and a smile.  
"What the Hell's that supposed to mean?"  
Crowley pulled the bottle from under the hunter's shirt and carefully and slowly lifted the chain over Dean's head.

Dean couldn't help but stare at the swirling contents of the bottle, but his eyes were still drawn to the blood coating the lower third of the bottle where it had been resting near his stab wound.

Crowley stated "You'd have to be blind, deaf and incredibly unobservant to not see your feelings for that angel, boy."  
Dean didn't reply, though maintained his expression of confusion. _Crap._  
"I promise you that those feelings you have for him are reciprocated."  
_Is he being serious? He's a damn demon you can't trust him. But what if he's right? Hell, Cas did everything for you..._ Dean couldn't deny that he loved Cas. But he'd never truly thought a lot about whether it was a brotherly love, or something more.  
"After all, you two do," Crowley said as he turned the bottle in his hands, examining the swirling contents. He then imitated the angel's voice, "Share a more profound bond."  
"Give his grace back to me."  
"I think I'll keep it for a little while since you didn't ask very nicely."  
Crowley was making him furious. The fact that he was letting the demon get to him made him even more angry. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. Don't let him get to you.  
_"Now for Jolly Green, yes? Sammy."  
Dean hadn't thought that he could hold such a rage, but somehow he could. The anger was present throughout him, and it seemed to be escalating though he couldn't fathom how. The sudden adrenaline rush seemed to dull his senses slightly so the pain in his stomach was lessened briefly, and he felt a swell of energy, as if he could beat Crowley within an inch of his life with his bare hands, even in his current state. "Stop."  
"Not yet."  
"Shut the hell up, you son of a bitch!" Dean was practically snarling at the demon king.  
Crowley smiled, the right side of his lips curling upwards. "My, my, you do have some anger issues. You should probably see someone about that." He began twirling Cas' grace by spinning the chain on his index finger.  
Dean wouldn't take his eyes off the bottle, and he clearly head Crowley's sharp intake of breath before he began mouthing on again.  
"Your little brother looked up to you from the off. You were the dependable person that always knew what to do. You had an answer to all of his questions whether it was how to talk to girls or how to kill a werewolf. You tried to make his childhood as normal as possible for him because you didn't get one yourself. You were more of a father to him than your own. You were daddy's little warrior from when you were 5. How did you put it? Oh yes, 'Daddy's blunt little instrument.' Always doing what Dad told you, without a second's hesitation. You looked after that kid like he was yours. And honestly, I think you grew up to fast."

Seeing the confusion on Dean's face, Crowley elaborated "Hey, I know I wasn't 'father of the year', but at least I let my kid grow up before I dumped all of my issues on him." Crowley paused again, as if he was considering the best way to go with his speech. Finding his next line, he smiled and continued. "You were dependable for Sam and he knew that you would always be there for him. But he wasn't always there for you."  
"Stop it or I swear to God-!"  
Crowley caught the spinning necklace and clicked his fingers making a gag appear on Dean's mouth, muffling his yell. "Yumuthufugga!"  
The demon cupped his ear and dramatically leant towards Dean. "Sorry, what was that? I couldn't quite make out what you said."  
Not giving Crowley the satisfaction, Dean remained seated in silence, attempting to move the rough material around in his mouth to find a comfortable position for it. He unfortunately found none. It seemed now that the adrenaline was waning, along with his strength again. The pain in his stomach was becoming more unbearable by the second, and he suddenly felt very tired. He noticed an itching in his abdomen above his wound. It seemed that the blood had started drying, and was forming a thin crust on his skin. All he wanted to do was scratch it and get it all off. But his attention was drawn by Crowley who stamped his foot.

Crowley took Cas' grace by the chain and walked towards Dean with his arms outstretched, holding the chain apart. He carefully placed it over Dean's head and leant down to whisper in his ear. "You did everything for your brother, didn't you? Like Cas did everything he could for you. But Sammy didn't really repay you. When you were here on your first visit, he stopped looking for you. He didn't even sell his soul to get you back. I suppose he couldn't have done anything about that though, because I ensured that none of my crossroad demons would make a deal with him. But you know what was not fair? He didn't even try searching for you when you were in Purgatory. He left you. And you went back to him after everything. You spent your life cleaning up his messes, whether it was a fight in school or when he started the Apocalypse, you did most of the work. After he abandoned you and you made your way out of Purgatory, you found and helped Kevin, my favourite little prophet. Why, when he had the chance to slam the gates, did you stop him? He would've been out of your hair, I'd be dead and you wouldn't be here. It was a win, win, win situation, but you saved his life, mine and Hell kept the open sign up. I am mildly grateful for that, so I think we'll take a break. I can't have you going insane on me this early." He winked.  
"I'll kill you." Somehow, around the gag, Dean made the threat very clear.  
"Well, if thinking that you can save yourself helps you through this, please, go ahead. But the truth in the matter is while you think that you do good and really make a good difference to people's lives, you take destruction and death with you wherever you go. So you keep thinking that you're the martyr as long as others think it. But I'll tell you something that I told your angel. A whore is a whore, is a whore." Crowley had moved to crouch in front of Dean so they were again at eye level.  
Dean ground his teeth together again, pushing through the fury that was telling him to say something back, and the pain that was somehow still climbing.  
"I'm going to go now, for your sake. See you again soon, sweetheart."

"Wait," Dean mumbled.

Crowley stayed where he was. "What?"

Dean smiled slightly. _Bad move, douchebag. _Dean threw his head forward so it collided with Crowley's.

The demon stumbled backwards, clutching his nose. "Bollocks!" He moved his hand away, and Dean saw a stream of blood trickling down to his chin. _Ha! Said I'd break his nose. Bastard._

Crowley walked quickly towards the table and picked up something that resembled a mallet. He walked towards Dean and hit the seated man hard in the head with the base of the handle.  
Dean was knocked unconscious almost instantly.

- 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A/N: Swiftly moving along.

Dean had done his best to count the amount of days he'd been in Hell as a feeble attempt to keep track of how long he had been suffering. It was damn near impossible for him because of how time somehow moved differently. And of course, they were in the eternal glow of the fire at the core of Hell, meaning that nothing could accurately tell him when anything happened.

Crowley had been thoroughly enjoying their seemingly daily sessions together, which messed with his body clock even more. Most of the time, he woke up in the same chair in the same room, and was knocked unconscious before waking up on the rack again, or one of his memories which had been twisted. It seemed that when Crowley threw him back into his own mind like that, it happened like a real dream. He could be in the middle of the memory for a whole month, and when he awoke, it was, in Hell time, mere seconds. It was horrible.

After his estimation of a month, Dean was about 98% positive that he was Crowley's bitch, no matter how hard he tried to be the exact opposite. And Crowley relished that fact immensely.

As much as Dean hated the guy, he had to give him credit for coming up with very creative ways to torment him, including turning some of his happiest memories into horrific scenes. And at the end of pretty much every one, he ended up being murdered or hurt by a friend or family member. #Bastard.#

Dean had counted 9,998 days, not actually knowing if he was right, but as he had nothing to go on, he just had to run with it. He decided to try and do something on the 10,000th. He knew it was crazy, but he wanted out bad. And it wasn't as if anything worse would happen to him if he failed; he was in Hell, after all. He was sick of a queue of Demons eager to torture him, all finding a new way to hurt him. He was sick of when they were forced to walk along barely-lit corridors until their feet bled. He was sick of the crazy scenarios Crowley put him through, but most of all he was sick of the King of Hell.

He had a few minutes to himself when he woke up but pretended to be asleep at the start of his session with Crowley on the 9,999th day. He used that valuable time to formulate a few plans depending on what he would be forced to do, and how he would eventually get out.

He recalled as much information as he could that had been told to him by Sam about when he freed Bobby's soul from Hell and how they got to Purgatory. _Yes! That's it! Perfect!_

After his 'quality time' with Crowley, he readied himself as much as possible, though it was very hard for him to prepare for anything in here, especially when punishments were dished out randomly.

When Dean awoke, he was lying on a freezing and hard surface. _Thank God! Walking._

He was pulled up roughly by one of the two demons who supervised him on these 'walks' and was pushed forward to get him started on his way.

Dean walked for what felt like hours along an endless corridor, being forced to listen to the demons' conversations. Any time he interjected his opinion or a smart-ass comment, he would be beaten. He bit his tongue after the first two times whenever he wanted to say something as he had sprained his ankle and was sure he had at least three bruised ribs from the last beating.

As he continued, the infinite soundtrack of wailing and screaming got louder. _This is it. Almost there. You got this._

They kept going, the demons engrossed in their conversation, not really focused on Dean, slowed down slightly. Unfortunately, Dean couldn't help but hear snippets of their talk, and he learned that the second demon had attacked him and Sam when they tried to protect Kevin a few years ago. It was in the Church they found Kevin in when he got out of Purgatory. Turns out it was the one he'd elected to call 'Spanky the Demon'. They walked past a slightly better lit area where old flame torches were held in place on the large stone wall in metal brackets. They flickered, causing Dean's vision to cloud slightly, as if the corridor was lit by strobe lighting. _This has got to be it, right?_

He hadn't passed any other sort of exits from this corridor, and he couldn't see a hint of any up ahead either. He knew not to do anything so close to the exit, because the demons were staring at him from the corners of their eyes.

Dean focused on them, waiting to see when they stopped gazing at him so suspiciously. He spotted his opening. He slowed his breathing to try and prepare for how much he was sure this would hurt. _No pain, no gain, huh? Bullshit. This is gonna hurt like a bitch._

Dean 'tripped', crumpling and smacking the floor with a resounding thud. The demons walked back over to where Dean lay, curled in on himself, hugging his ribs and groaning from the pain.

"Come on, princess. Up you get." Demon Number One said.

Dean didn't move.

"So what, now the famous Dean Winchester can't deal with a bruise?" Spanky the Demon mocked. He made the mistake of coming too close to Dean.

He spun on the floor, kicking his legs with the motion. He kicked Spanky's legs out from under him, causing him to tumble backwards into Demon Number One.

Jumping up as quickly as he could with his injuries, he used the momentum to throw himself forwards into the two fumbling demons for a tackle. They all fell to the floor, with Dean ready to stand again practically as soon as they collided with the stone.

He crouched near Demon Number One and punched him in the face three times, splitting two of his knuckles, and breaking the demon's nose. He only needed to punch Spanky once before he was disoriented like the first.

Dean stood and walked around to the heads of the demons that lay side-by-side. He picked up his left leg and threw it down onto Demon Number One's head, knocking him unconscious. He did the same with Spanky and then retreated to the wall which was in shadow so he could rest for a moment.

He stood against the cool stone, curled over his ribs and balancing on his left leg so no pressure was being placed on his right ankle.

After about a minute, when he'd regained his breath, he set off towards the lit corridor at a gallop. He had to change to an agonisingly slow limp due to the pain in his ankle after a few metres, but got there in a short amount of time.

It felt brilliant to see the flame held to the wall, and he smiled brilliantly as he rounded the corner into the corridor. _Like a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel._

He was surprised and nearly yelled as he almost fell down a flight of stairs he couldn't see from where he'd walked past it just minutes before.

Timidly, and leaning heavily on the wall, he walked down the stairs, rounding another corner to find himself in a long corridor that looked like a Medieval dungeon. There were cells lining the corridor on both sides where people were yelling for release.

Dean jumped as a woman grabbed his arm through the iron bars of her cell door. "Please help me!"

Feeling incredibly guilty, Dean pulled away and gently said "I'm sorry, I can't," knowing that he didn't have long before an army was sent to find him.

It seemed that the entrance to the dungeon-like corridor was not central, and to the left were a smaller amount of cells than to the right. So, he headed to the right as Sam had said that Bobby was in the middle of lot.

He looked for any rocks that jutted out just above head-level in between cells as Sam had left a watch as a marker for the exit. Hoping it hadn't been moved, he rushed along the corridor.

_YES!_

He saw a black watch balancing precariously on the edge of a large stone. _Thank you, Sammy!_

He stood still for a few moments in the middle of two rows of rock to see if anything felt different about the stones to the left or right of the marker, and he felt a slight draft coming from the right.

Dean smiled again as he pushed as hard as he could against the stones, and he felt a tiny amount of movement.

He somehow found more energy, and pushed one at hip-level back about three inches.

He kept pushing until it fell through, the one above toppling over with it.

Dean lifted his leg through the gap into what felt like a wind tunnel and was about to duck down through the space when his arm was tugged.

He fell to the floor hard and yelled as he hitting his ankle and landing on his ribs, breaking at least one with a loud crack. The demon that had pulled him was holding him to the floor in an iron grip. _Son of a bitch!_

The demon yelled down the corridor where he'd come from "I've got him!"

Dean turned his head to look in the direction of someone tutting.

"Dean, Dean, Dean." A pair of expensive-looking Italian leather shoes came into view. Dean followed the grey pinstriped black trousers up to see Crowley smirking at him, hands in pockets. He clicked his tongue from the roof of his mouth and said "What _are_ we going to do about you?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
A/N: Continuing straight from the last chapter...

A scream escaped Dean's lips as Crowley cruelly twisted the knife as he pulled it from Dean's abdomen. An expertly placed wound, it missed any vital organs, leaving Dean's spirit to 'stay alive' for a lot longer than if he'd been stabbed in any major organs. Hell was weird that way; it still treated you like a human, even though the demons didn't.  
Crowley had done this so many times before, he didn't even really have to think about aiming, it just went in the right place.  
And even though Dean had experienced the same pain countless times, it was never any less excruciating.  
The only real difference between physical torture on Earth and in Hell was the fact that at the end, you were magically fine as if an angel had used their powers to heal you.  
And that meant all internal damage was gone, too. So no scars, and no tolerance was built up for being stabbed in the same area.  
"Aaaaah!" Dean curled forward in his chair. Panting, he shouted "I'm gonna kill you!" Dean coughed a few times, groaning due to the additional pain caused. He stared down at his left leg, and the rope binding it to the chair. Someone had tied the rope loose. Dean started wiggling his leg, stamping his foot as if it were a way for him to try and lessen the pain.  
Crowley had pulled one of those scalpel-like knives down his arm again, causing blood to flow from the wound onto Dean's jeans, and to splat onto the stone. Even the sound of the blood dripping onto the floor like a leaky faucet was painful with an extremely powerful headache from being hit in the head several times.  
His whole body was on fire from cuts that Crowley had made, shredding his jeans and shirt. Though for some reason unbeknownst to Dean, Crowley had taken Cas' grace and had placed it securely out of the way on the knife table so the bottle wasn't damaged. Even in a lot of pain, Dean still found energy in himself to be a smartass. Looking as a bulge in Crowley's suit trousers, Dean inclined his head. "Is that a knife in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"  
Smiling at the joke he'd elected to ignore, Crowley dragged the knife he held along Dean's collarbone and asked sweetly "Why were you in that corridor?"  
Grimacing up at Crowley, Dean replied with "I was looking for the Easter Bunny." Quickly glancing at the loose rope again, he could see that it had slipped down to rest on his foot. _If I can just slide forward, I should be able to get loose._  
Crowley punched Dean in the face and stepped back shaking his hand loosely to try and lessen the pain in his knuckles. "I think that you were looking for a way out. You were trying to get to Purgatory."  
Dean coughed and tasted copper as his mouth filled with blood which he spat out. Dean didn't reply.  
Crowley moved closer to Dean who moved his head back as far as the chair would let him. Crowley kept moving forward until the men's noses were almost touching, and he was leaning over the chair. "Weren't you?"  
"You got me there. But if you knew the answer to your question, why'd you bother asking?" Dean tilted his head to the side, a cocky smile brightening his features as he felt a cool object come in contact with his fingers.  
"What are you doing?" Crowley straightened his back slightly and looked down to see the hunter's hand in his trousers' pocket.  
Dean gripped onto the arm of the chair tightly with his left hand, tightening his grip on the knife in the demon's pocket. He pulled himself forward in the seat so he could lift his foot from the rope. Throwing his leg forward, it collided with Crowley's knee, sending him to the ground in a heap. Dean turned the blade to face him, and began viciously sawing at the rope holding his right arm immobile.  
Crowley went for Dean again, who was ready. This time, Dean aimed high, kicking the King in the chest, again sending him reeling backwards.  
"You bastard!"  
"That's me," Dean said breathlessly. His arm was cramping up from being on an awkward angle, but he kept at it, until he'd cut through the rope in one place. He shook and pulled his arm upwards, loosening the rope further so he could slip his hand through the space.  
Testing the tightness of the rope on his other ankle, he noticed that thankfully, he only needed to cut one coil again before he could get out of it. Unfortunately, Crowley was up again and was heading towards Dean holding a meat cleaver.  
_Crap!_ Dean ducked the millisecond Crowley swiped at him with the cleaver, feeling it trim the hair on the back of his head. Dean retaliated by slicing the arm of Crowley's suit, and the demon's arm with it. Instinctively, Crowley clutched the wound, giving Dean a few seconds to be able to again swing his left leg out at Crowley, this time, kicking him in the nuts.  
Crowley hit the table holding the knives as he fell to the floor and groaned, dropping the knife he held as he curled into the foetal position.  
Dean continued sawing through the rope around his right ankle and left wrist with the bloodstained knife, freeing himself. As he was sure that Crowley wouldn't be getting up any time soon, Dean stood and slowly pulled up his t-shirt over his largest abdominal wound. He winced as it pulled at the skin surrounding it, the material clinging to him. The wound was very deep, and the steady stream of blood leaking from it wasn't helping him think anything would suddenly make it heal. He pulled the shirt down over it again by yanking the sticky material as far away from his torso as it would stretch before bringing it back to touch the skin.  
Dean moved over to the table and picked up the bottle containing Cas' grace by the chain, placing it over his head. He left it to swing outside his t-shirt instead of tucking it under the material like usual. Dean wrapped his left arm around his torso, putting pressure on his wound to stop the bleeding. He inhaled shakily through his teeth, making a 'whooshing' sort of sound.  
Dean picked up a knife off the table and moved to stand over Crowley who had straightened himself out slightly on the floor so he lay on his back.  
"Dean?" Crowley gasped out.  
"What?!" Dean spat at the demon, him mouth still clamped shut.  
"What exactly are you going to do?"  
"Get out of here!"  
"How?" Crowley smiled. "My demons will stop you again."  
Dean smiled now, his bloody teeth catching the little light streaming into the dark room, causing Crowley to flinch. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, _your Majesty_." Dean held up the knife he'd picked up from the table. "You shouldn't keep this here, s'not safe. Could hurt you."  
Crowley looked surprised and angry. "Bollocks!"  
"I thought you would've gotten rid if it after I died. Obviously forgot I'd kept it in my jeans when I-" Dean put the tips of his index and middle fingers to his right temple, mimicking a gun. "When I offed myself. But you just confiscated it. Bad move." Dean went to lunge at Crowley.  
"Wait, please!"  
"Eat me." Dean thrust the Demon knife downward quickly and into Crowley's right thigh. The demon yelled indiscernible curse words at Dean.  
"I promised you I'd kill you."  
"That you did. I promised you the same. No idea where we go when we die in this beautiful place..." Crowley sounded scared, terrified even, and his face didn't even betray him. But the wobble in his voice was enough to tell Dean that Crowley wasn't going to fight the inevitable.  
"End of the line, Dean?" Crowley's face showed resignation, and a sadness in his voice made Dean feel a small amount of guilt. It was only enough to make his smile falter minutely. "End of the line." Dean stepped towards Crowley and lifted the knife above his head before plunging it into Crowley's heart.  
Crowley shouted and clawed at the handle in a feeble attempt to remove the knife. The flickering light that was always present at the death of a demon appeared from within Crowley, showing his skeleton in shadow. His head flopped backwards against the floor and he stopped as his arms fell from his chest to the ground. A small trail of blood trickled from his mouth and pooled on the floor beside his head.  
Dean was about to rest shortly, but had not chance as a demon appeared at the doorway to the room calling out "Sir?"  
Dean pulled the blade from Crowley's chest and quickly headed into the shadows as the other demon stepped forward towards his boss. Dean waited impatiently, clutching his wounds, until the demon stepped out in front of him where Crowley was now visible. He lunged, killing the other demon with a swipe of the knife.  
He slunk back to the shadows and leant heavily against the wall to catch his breath, waiting to see if any other demons came in. When they didn't, he went towards the doorway and stuck his head through the opening, checking both directions of the corridor to make sure that there were no demons awaiting him. He saw none.  
Dean carefully yet briskly headed down the corridor towards the echoing sounds of screams, keeping his back to the stone wall. He realised that this was the same corridor that he'd walked down for hours, but he was coming from the opposite direction.  
He took the same turn as before down the stairs, and in a space large enough for him between the stones, Dean rested, leaning heavily on the wall.  
After the short pause, he moved to the bottom of the stairs with his back pressed against the wall. He was kept in shadow in his position, so he stuck his head around the corner to check for demons. Three stood beside the doorway to Purgatory, speaking in gruff voices.  
_Damn it._ It was hard enough for him to move with his wounds, and now he had to fight three demons, too. He couldn't think of any scenario where he didn't end up dead or unable to move if he confronted them. He couldn't fight in his condition, he was sure.  
Then, all of a sudden, he thought of something that had been recently staring him in the face, literally. _Crowley._

***

"Boys?"  
The three demons stopped mid-conversation. One of them turned to face the direction that the sound came from. "Sir?"  
"I need you to check on good looking for me?"  
"All of us, Sir?"  
"No. I need two of you to go and the other to run me a bath."  
One of them sighed, as if used to and fed up of Crowley's way of speaking.  
Another said "Yes, Sir." The three slowly moved away from the wall and headed towards the staircase, as they reengaged in their conversation. They walked straight past Dean without a second glance.  
Smirking, Dean moved away from the wall he had pressed himself against in the shadow and slunk stealthily around the corner and headed straight for the gateway to Purgatory. _That went better than I thought. Not a bad impression, apparently._  
He felt along the rocks for the opening, as a demon had moved Sam's watch. Dean had remembered the area, he just needed to find the rock to shift again. He put the knife that he still held in the back of the waistband of his jeans and leaned into the stones heavily. A notable draft flew through the opening, causing a whistling sound like a strong wind. His attention was drawn to the staircase again as he heard echoing footsteps and voices.  
"What the hell was that about?"  
"I don't know man, she seemed fine with it before. That's Meg for ya."  
_Crap._ Dean heard the voices of two demons and a third's chuckling approaching fast.  
The opening was getting bigger slowly with the second rock falling through, and as Dean was sure they were about to turn the corner he heard something hard collide with a hard surface. "Damn it!"  
"What did you do now?"  
"Your Mom." He paused and snorted before adding "And I dropped this."  
Dean squeezed through the gap and gasped as he appeared in the forest that he'd spent a year in.  
Turning around, he saw the space in the trees that he'd somehow gone through and began piling up the rocks that had originally covered the doorway.  
He leaned heavily against the tree for a short amount of time, looking out at the bleak midday scene that he was all too familiar with.  
Dean looked down at himself and realised that his injuries were gone. Laughing lightly, he smiled as he felt the chain around his neck and pulled the knife from his jeans.  
He closed his eyes and evened out his breathing as he leant against the tree, almost sitting from a sudden influx of weariness.  
Dean's eyes flew open when he heard a twig snap nearby, senses alert. He stood up from the tree as he raised the blade to his hip and walked forward slowly in a crouched position turning so he looked to every direction in a search for whatever snapped the twig.  
Another snap from directly behind him made him spin, swiping the weapon where the head of the monster should have been.  
He turned in an almost full circle, searching for his would-be attacker.  
Then he saw a man standing a few feet away from him.  
"Looks like we're gettin' to make a habit of this, don't it, Dean?"  
"Benny?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

A/N: Continuing straight from the last chapter...

-

Benny moved forward to greet Dean. The hunter walked towards his friend and held him in a bone-crushing hug that was reciprocated by the vampire.  
"How you been, brutha?"  
"Uh- I-" Dean released Benny and moved backwards a little, so they could both look at each other.  
"What were you doin' in Hell?" Benny casually leaned against the closest tree to him, smiling, allowing his stolen weapon to hang beside his leg.  
"I died, Benny."  
"I just about figured that much on my own, chief. I wanted to know why you had to get out this way instead of your Angel buddy pickin' you out again."  
Dean swallowed audibly and shifted on his feet before grabbing the chain around his neck, tugging at the bottle. "He uh- He died. Sammy too."  
"What? When?" Benny's smile quickly faded to be replaced with a look of concern and sympathy.  
"No idea how long ago after I've been in the pit, but a couple months before I bit it. An Archangel killed 'em." Dean told Benny of everything that had happened since the vampire had gone back to Purgatory to save Sam. He informed Benny of what had been done by Metatron and everything he'd tried to get Sam and Cas back, and what had happened in Hell, too.  
When he finished reciting his story, he walked up to Benny and they both looked at each other. When Benny looked away shortly, Dean pulled his right arm back and punched him as hard as he could in the face.  
Benny fell back in surprise and gripped his face where Dean's fist had collided with it. He yelled, "What the hell was that for?"  
"Not riding Sam outta this place when you came to save him! What were you thinking doing that?"  
"I thought I was savin' your brother's ass for you, and your friend! I got them out. I stayed so they could go!"  
"Bullshit!"  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah! You wanted to come back here," Dean indicated around them by spreading his arms. "You told me that and you know it."  
"I guess I wasn't really cut out for the life outside Purgatory, Dean. Fit better, I guess."  
Dean crossed his arms across his chest. "I thought you were dead."  
"Well I'm not." He pulled himself from Dean's embrace and asked "What do you say we get you outta here?"  
"Not without you."  
"Is your meat-suit even ready for this again?" Benny looked around, looking for anyone or anything, though he saw nothing. He was becoming increasingly agitated as no monsters had come near them for the past ten minutes. They're talking alone should've attracted the attention of some sort of creature, though there were none near. During Dean's first visit they were constantly fighting for their lives, be it against shapeshifters or leviathan. They'd not seen anything since Dean's arrival, which was more worrying to both the hunter and vampire than if they were back to their 360 degree combat.  
"Nah, but my soul is. Are you ready to high-tail it out?" Dean shifted his weight between his feet, bouncing slightly.  
"Not if you ain't got a body to go back to!"  
"We're not going back to Earth like before. We're going to Heaven, Benny."  
The vampire stared at Dean, completely surprised. "What?"  
"When Sam got Bobby out, he just sort of released Bobby's soul and it did some weird-ass thing where it floated on up to Heaven. Figured the same'd happen to us. If not, we'll be back to earth. Guess I'll hotwire another body before I can sort my shit out, y'know."  
"Okay."  
"Okay?" Dean couldn't believe his ears, and gazed at Benny, trying to see if he was kidding.  
"There an echo here? Yeah, alright. We'd better get going. It's not gonna stay light forever," Benny informed Dean and turned in search for something. Spotting it, Benny headed in that direction, with Dean at his heels.  
Benny went over to a tree and sifted through a pile of rocks at its base until he pulled away, looking satisfied that he'd found whatever it was that he'd searched for.  
Gesturing at Dean's demon blade, Benny said "Put that toothpick away." Moving whatever he'd picked up from behind his back, Benny continued "Thinkin' you'd need this." He showed Dean an axe similar to the one that he'd gotten the first time he was in Purgatory.  
"Thanks." Dean took the weapon and looked around again. "You ready?"  
Benny smiled. "Oh yeah."

***

They ran a few miles side-by-side, fortunately with Benny being able to recall most of the way towards the exit.  
It was terrifying. There were no monsters at all. It was more disconcerting than if they'd been swarmed by an army of nasties, but any were yet to appear. It was almost silent, their ragged breathing breaking the quiet in short gasps and the sound of their feet crossing dry, crackly leaves.  
"Seems there's been less of 'em since I got back," Benny informed Dean. "And I ain't seen any vampires for a week. Dunno if it's 'cause they're all killin' each other or not, or they just ain't bein' killed on earth, y'know."  
"That can't be good."  
"When is anything ever good when you're involved?" Benny smiled at Dean and winked.  
"Yeah, yeah," Dean retorted with the middle finger, and turned around, looking at Benny. "Alright, well which way to the door thingy then?"  
"Uh-" Benny turned, looking around them. Clearly recognising something in front of them, he pointed to their left with his weapon. "Over there."  
They moved onwards quickly, still alert and prepared for any attacks that may be attempted on them. Their first day together passed quickly, and they made good progress with their movement as it seemed that they were very far from the exit, and as Dean had gone through the doorway only a few short hours before sunset, they could only 'safely' travel so far.  
So they camped out on the high branches of a tall tree, each taking shifts to guard the other while they slept. They set off again at the signs of first light.  
As they neared the portal, Benny noticed some sort of rustling that Dean was unable to hear. It was apparently quite persistent and seemed to be coming from all around them, though neither of them were able to see the source of the rustling.  
"You sure it's not just the wind?"  
Benny looked at Dean sceptically, then licked his finger and held it up. "What wind?"  
Both men were getting increasingly wary of any threats though none seemed present.  
"Let's just keep moving," Dean suggested.  
"Mhmm," Benny said as he tugged Dean's arm, moving them both forward again.  
Dean could tell that they were closing in on the exit because he felt a strange sort of energy grow, as if the air pressure was increasing, and as if it was somehow connected to him.  
_Crack._  
"What was that!?" Dean spun to face the direction of the sound.  
Benny had done the same, and with little warning before taking off, he simply said "Run."  
They sprinted in the direction they were already heading and after a couple of seconds, the sound of twigs snapping and dry leaves being moved increased from the sound of two people running, to the sound of ten.  
Both men, running side-by-side noticed people sprinting towards them in their peripheral vision, and too late, they also noticed a couple move into their path from behind a couple of trees.  
"Werewolves," Benny spat.  
The pack began circling Dean and Benny, allowing them little room to move. Sean took in the features of the nine men and one woman, observing that they looked rather average other than the fang-like canine teeth and the animalistic eyes.  
"Hello, Benny," said the female werewolves, wearing a toothy grin showing her fangs.  
Dean looked sceptically at Benny from the corner of his eye and, slightly surprised, asked "You know these guys?" The female glared at Dean before he added "And girl," making her smile slightly.  
"I uh- ran into a couple of their pack members a while back."  
"And you killed them," the tall woman said calmly. She was clearly the leader, nodding instructions to the rest of the pack that still slowly circled the men. "And now, we'll kill you," was added with a sweet smile.  
"This should be fun," Dean muttered.  
"Just like the old days," was Benny's reply.  
As one, the pack moved closer to the men in the centre.  
Benny nudged Dean's back with his elbow which signalled for the both of them to move.  
The two friends stood back-to-back and turned, facing the pack that had circled them, all swiping with their claws.  
Dean and Benny were outnumbered five to one each, though from the way that they'd learned to work with each other previously, it was an almost effortless defence and offence rolled into one, both complimenting the other.  
Without even speaking to each other, Dean and Benny decided to split the pack, each taking five on. They moved away from each other, with Benny jumping forwards, now baring his fangs. He ripped out the throat of one of the werewolves quickly and efficiently as he kicked another. He swiped his axe, beheading the second monster.  
At the same time, Dean has beheaded two werewolves with his weapon and had wounded one. The third swiped at Dean with his claws, ripping garish gashes out of the hunter's chest.  
"Son of a bitch!" Dean fell to the floor and dropped his axe. The werewolf lunged for Dean again, this time trying to bite the hunter's throat. The female stood to the side, watching.  
At the last moment, Dean dropped the demon blade from his jacket sleeve and stabbed the werewolf in its stomach, causing it to howl in pain. He pushed the animal-like creature off him and lunged for the axe that he had dropped.  
The two remaining monsters now stood beside each other, the injured covering his sliced abdomen.  
The pack's leader sniffed the air and growled "Winchester."  
Dean was surprised by the acknowledgement, and his face showed that clearly. Sure that the alpha would've wanted to kill Benny after what had happened between him and the other pack members, he asked "What do you got against me?"  
"A considerable amount. But you're Benny's friend, and as he killed my friends I wanted him to see me kill you before I killed him." She spoke to Dean as if he was a three year old who had just asked his daddy where he came from.  
Dean stood. "You got some issues, lady. Maybe you should talk to somebody about it."  
"Plus, your father killed mine. I'd know your stink anywhere. Smells like filth, doesn't he?" The leader looked to the other man-wolf who smiled and said "Yep, just like his daddy."  
Dean smiled bitterly and lunged at them with his axe, beheading the man in a clean swoop and half-slicing the leader's neck. She fell to the floor gurgling and clutching her throat. Unable to keep pressure on the wound as her hands were slick with blood, she used her claws in an attempt to hold on better. This tore more skin, and caused additional blood to gush from her carotid arteries.  
"I was sure you would've gotten the message from my Dad. You don't mess with the Winchesters, bitch." Dean moved to stand above her, lifted the axe above his head and dropped it down on the werewolf's head causing it to roll away from the twitching body. It left a sickly red trail behind it, painting the brown leaves before bouncing off a tree trunk and stopping, her hair splayed in a curtain, framing her once-pretty face.  
Dean recovered quickly and turned to see two headless bloody bodies on the floor beside his friend, and he saw a third come up from behind Benny and knock his weapon from his hand. The vampire spun and began fighting the werewolf in a supercharged boxing match.  
The werewolf pinned Benny up against a tree while a fourth swiped at him with its claws.  
Dean didn't know what to do. So he did the first thing he thought of.  
"Hey! Assbutt!"  
It had the desired effect.  
The three monsters turned to face Dean which successfully drew their attention away from Benny shortly.  
In that instant, Benny kicked the werewolf that had been slashing his chest and bit the hand of the one that had held him against the tree. He was released and tore the throat of the closest monster from his body, causing blood to spatter against the tree and grass surrounding him, as well as Benny. His clothes were now torn, but what material remained was caked in mud and grime from Purgatory, and the blood of monsters he'd killed as well as black goo from a leviathan. They were also given a fresh coat of blood, from this fight.  
In the meanwhile, Dean had run towards the other werewolves.  
He chopped off the head of the werewolf that had remained standing whilst the one that had been kicked by Benny was readying to fight the vampire.  
The monster knocked Benny to the ground and landed on top of him. The werewolf lunged for Benny's throat, biting air and missing by mere millimetres as Benny attempted to fend him off.  
They were both at each other's throats, and Dean couldn't do anything for the risk of hitting Benny was too great.  
Somehow, Benny had pushed the werewolf off him so they were fighting side-by-side on the ground. They got up onto their knees, both still slashing for the other's throat until Dean saw an opportunity.  
The hunter stood back and tested the balance of his axe. He readied himself, took a few deep breaths and yelled "Duck!"  
Benny dropped in that instant, his quick reflexes perfectly in tune.  
Dean threw the axe which flipped a few times mid-air before it landed exactly where Dean aimed. It cut cleanly through the werewolf's neck, causing the head and body to fall with resounding thuds and the axe planted itself neatly in the bark of a tree a few yards behind the fallen body.  
"About time!" Benny sat up and looked up at his friend.  
"Hey, I saved your ass!"  
"True," Benny smiled and continued "But you did a pretty piss-poor job with your timing!"  
"Fine! Well next time, you can save my ass. Deal?"  
"You got it, partner."  
Both men chuckled and Dean walked over to his friend to help him up. They retrieved their weapons and looked around to ensure that each werewolf was in fact dead.  
"Ganked 'em all," Dean observed, counting ten headless bodies and a couple heads.  
"For now. You got any silver on you?"  
"Do I look like I've got any silver?"  
"Well we'd better get going, then." Benny stood, and smiled shortly up at Dean as he outstretched his hand. Rolling his eyes, Dean grabbed Benny's hand and pulled him up.  
"Let's go."

***

"What was that?" Dean asked. He and Benny had taken their time walking again as they were nursing their wounds from the fight, and they'd not sensed nor heard anything suspicious or worrying so they simply walked towards the exit.  
It had just been the two of them for a mile, then Dean heard a faint sound of someone shouting.  
Benny shrugged, and they both moved in silence towards the sound trying to find its origin.  
Upon getting closer, they heard a man with a definite British accent yelling "Can anybody tell me where the bloody hell I am!?"  
Dean put his arm out in front of Benny, signalling he should stop.  
"What?"  
"I-" Dean cocked his head towards the direction of the voice. "I recognise that voice. I can't think from wh-"  
"IS ANYBODY ELSE HERE?!"  
"Sonofabitch."  
Benny moved to stand in front of Dean. "What is it?"  
"The King of Hell."  
They continued walking forward until Crowley came into view. His back was facing them.  
Dean approached first, asking "Crowley?"  
The man in question spun to face Dean. His eyes widened and he moved backwards, pointing at the hunter. "S- Stay away from me!" He looked at Benny imploringly and yelled "Go! He killed me! He'll kill you! Run!" Crowley took off at an unbelievable speed, sprinting away from Benny and Dean.  
The hunter dropped his weapon by the vampire, who picked it up and turned, keeping his eyes out for any enemies that might be on their way.  
Dean sprinted after Crowley and caught up with him very quickly, jumping and tackling the shorter man to the ground. They both crashed into the leaves, Dean coughing after the impact.  
"Please don't kill me!" Crowley wriggled, trying his best to get away from Dean, and he almost succeeded, but his ankles were grabbed, halting his movement.  
"Crowley, stop!" Dean growled.  
"Wh- Why do you keep calling me Crowley?" The man sounded terrified.  
Dean, confused as he was, stood and grabbed Crowley's shirt, pulling him up. Crowley whimpered, but went with the other man without any resistance.  
"You're a demon, the King of Hell, actually."  
Crowley stared at Dean with wide, round, scared eyes. "I'm _what_?!"  
"Oh let me guess. You're Fergus MacLeod, right?"  
"How did you know that?"  
_Crap._ _What the hell am I supposed to do with him now? _"Benny!"  
The vampire walked over to Dean, allowing his weapon to swing at his side and holding Dean's weapon on his shoulder.  
"What are we gonna do?"  
Benny sighed. "I vote we leave him, brutha."  
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't think we can."  
"Why not? This is the bastard that tortured you, idn't it?"  
Crowley tried to pull himself from Dean's grasp, instead earning a punch in the face from Benny. "Bollocks!"  
"Nah, don't think so." Dean looked Crowley up and down and continued "Think it's the guy before he became a demon. MacLeod, or something."  
"How's he in Purgatory, then?"  
"Purgatory?!" Crowley cupped his nose, blood dripping through the spaces in between his fingers. "You are crazy! Purgatory, Hell? What are you, religious nuts?"  
"Shut up," Dean commanded, grabbing Crowley tighter. "We gotta take him with us, Benny. Just get him to the portal thingy. It's not far, he's human and he can take care of himself."  
Benny shifted on his feet and said "Fine, but if he tried to run off, we leave him. We're not gonna risk chasing him through here, alright?"  
"Deal," Dean nodded and pulled _Fergus _along with him.

***

The hunter, ex-demon and vampire had covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time and were close to the exit by now. On their way, they had encountered a few monsters that hadn't lasted long against them. Though, unfortunately, their pace was beginning to slow considerably as their injuries were taking a serious toll. And Fergus fell over a couple of times, which made it hard for Dean and Benny to keep moving due to laughing fits.  
Dean was about to suggest a quick break, but he knew it wasn't a good idea as the night was fast approaching. Then, they came to the bottom of the hill where the exit opened up and began swirling and glowing blue.  
Dean and Benny then looked at each other and hugged quickly, patting each other on the back.  
Pulling away, Dean asked "You gonna magic in me again or am I gonna pull you through this time?"  
Fergus looked as if he was going to throw up, but continued to stare at the portal.  
"Does the second one work?" Benny asked hopefully.  
"No idea."  
"Let's give it a shot."  
"You sure that's a good idea?" Dean was clearly concerned, and rightfully so as he'd just gotten his friend back after being so sure they'd never see each other again. "Maybe, just 'cause it worked last time, we should..?"  
"Yeah, yeah," Benny rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, cutting his arm.  
"Whoa, what are you doing?" Fergus looked at Benny, staring at the blood now running down his arm. "Wh- Why are you-?"  
Dean winked and pulled his axe up to his arm and cut it, causing a trail of blood to dribble down and drip onto the ground.  
"Let's head on up, shall we?"  
"To where?"  
"See the huge blue thingy?" Dean paused, looking at Fergus, waiting to see a reaction. MacLeod nodded minutely, and Dean continued "We are gonna climb into it."  
"What will happen?"  
"Hopefully," Dean looked down to his feet. "We'll get on up to Heaven."  
Fergus raised his eyebrows and half looked up at Dean through his eyelashes. "Heaven?"  
"That's what I said," Dean rolled his eyes and turned to face Benny. "Ready?"  
Benny smiled. "Oh yeah. See you on the other side."  
Dean and Benny gripped each others' arms so their blood met.  
Looking Benny in the eyes, Dean said "Goniuti sumos onnum sumus."  
Instantly afterwards, Benny dissipated into a red liquid-like substance and flowed into Dean's arm.  
"Gah." Pulling his shirt sleeve down over his arm to cover the sore red glow that was Benny, he said "Hey!"  
Dean tapped a surprised Fergus on the shoulder and said "Come on!"  
They both ran up the hill towards the exit that Dean was sure was closing.  
"What do I do?" Crowley yelled over the roar of the portal.  
"Get in!"  
"What!?" Fergus cupped his ear and leant towards Dean.  
Dean stepped in to the blue glow and yelled "GET IN!"  
Fergus looked sceptical, but did as Dean said without much hesitation. "GOOD LUCK!"  
Dean nodded and replied "YOU TOO!" He closed his eyes and prayed it worked.

-

A/N: I wrote the incantation phonetically as Dean says it in S08E05, so it is not correct Latin, and I was unable to find the correct spelling. Please let me know what you thought, guys. I really appreciate the feedback. Thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A/N: Hello! This goes on straight on from the last chapter. Please let me know what you think of this. The last one in the story will be up next Monday. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!

-

"The world in a thousand colours  
Swirls of light and dark  
Mixing fairly with the people  
Drawing between the colours meet  
Never to admit defeat  
Where does one end and the other begin  
Or do we find them much the same  
Colours fighting colours blighting to be cleansed by the rain  
Such confusion this I know  
For the Bible tells me so  
Soon they'll switch and then we'll find  
Conflict coming up to shine."

Dean was out. He could see it. The forest in Maine where he'd appeared previously, or at least a forest. It wasn't Purgatory, he could tell that much, though he didn't know how. Everything was dark, though the area closest to him was showcasing the green light of his soul. It reminded him of after he'd been blasted with Metatron's angel stuff. It was strange, though not unpleasant.  
He realised that he could see in every direction. He wasn't human, not any more. He was like a cloud of light that was steadily rising towards the stars.  
As he got higher, he began moving faster and the fixed points of starlight above him became blurred as he passed through a cloud.  
He sped through a few more and quickly before he went straight into a massive cloud bank.

***

Dean opened his eyes.  
His vision was blurry for a few seconds, and after rapidly and repeatedly blinking, it cleared to reveal his dashboard.  
He began grinning, remembering his last trip to Heaven as he wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. "Aah, baby. It's been a while."  
Dean was about to drive off, when he felt a sudden burning in his arm. He looked down at it to see a swollen, glowing red patch.  
"Benny," Dean muttered as he sat up. He picked up the axe from beside him and cut his arm, saying "Anime corpori uri corpus totum resorgent."  
Slowly, the light streamed from Dean's arm to the seat beside him, growing to form a man-shaped puddle.  
Dean closed his eyes for a few seconds, and when he opened them, he came face to face with his friend. Benny looked confused and asked "You back in your meat suit?"  
"Nah, dude. We made it."  
"We made it?"  
"Yup," Dean replied with a grin.  
With a look of surprise, Benny hugged Dean, who reciprocated the embrace.  
They let go and Benny asked "So where the hell are we?"  
"In my car. We gotta just follow the road and we'll find Sam that way, as long as it's the same as last time..."  
Benny smiled and clapped Dean on the back. "Well let's get going."  
"Yes, Sir!" Dean put her in gear and drove along the dark road for a few miles.  
Benny pointed out of the windscreen, indicating a faint light in the distance that they were quickly approaching. "That it?"  
Dean slowed the Impala slightly, shifting in his seat. "Only one way to find out."  
As they neared the building, they recognised it instantly. "Dean, this ain't-"  
"Welcome to your Heaven, dude." Dean parked outside the diner that Benny had been working at when Martin Creaser started hunting him. Elizabeth was visible in the window, cleaning a table.  
Benny looked at the building, his chest tight. "I don't know what to do."  
Dean turned off the engine, looking at the building too. "You go in there, and you live the life you wanted. Spend some time with your granddaughter. Enjoy."  
Benny turned to Dean, seeing the man sat there with a large grin lighting up his face. "Now," the hunter reached over past Benny to open the glove box and pulled out a cell phone. He scrolled through the contacts, deleting any unimportant ones. "You go, and take this," and he handed Benny the cell. "Call me if you ever wanna meet up, or just keep it on in case I find a way to make trouble for myself up here and I call you out on our deal."  
Benny slowly took the phone, looking at Dean. "You mean when I get to save your ass again?"  
"Exactly," Dean nodded.  
Benny smiled and held out his hand for Dean. They shook with a firm grasp, and Benny then opened the car door and got out. He put his hand on the car roof, leaning in through the open doorway. "Now you need me, you call y'hear?"  
"You bet."  
Benny paused and closed the door gently. He took a deep breath and walked towards the diner, unshed tears making his vision swim. He stopped in front of the door and turned to see Impala's headlights turn on. He waved, yelling "See you around, brutha," before he turned back and walked into the diner.  
"Hey, sugar."  
"Elizabeth!" A huge grin spread across Benny's face. "Been a while."

Dean drove along the dark road for miles, not encountering anything. Dawn finally began to break, leaving a beautiful sky on the East, as if welcoming him. Though after half an hour of driving in silence, he considered turning around and going back to the diner, just to stay for some pie before heading off again. Just as he was about to, he noticed a faint light from the right.  
"Oh, God." Dean sped up, seeing the old familiar sign. Swerving lightly on the gravel, Dean pulled up next to the scraps of a Celica GT4 and jumped out of the Impala with the engine still running.  
He jogged around to the entrance of the house, taking in all of the details. The once flaky, peeling paint looked new again. The rusted sign had no sign of oxidisation, the creaky step now rigid.  
He stood for a minute or two, just looking, seeing the house as if it was the first water after he'd trekked through the desert for days. The sunrise behind the building gave the effect of it having a halo, or corona of sorts.  
Dean exhaled and pulled the creases out of his jacket as he squared his shoulders, readying to knock on the door.  
As his knuckles hovered above the white eggshell covered wood, the door flew open, revealing Castiel.  
"DEAN!"

***

How long Dean had been in heaven, he had no clue. He didn't really care too much, either.  
He had been welcomed back at Bobby's as if he was a war veteran, just returning from a long tour. It seemed as though, like normal, Bobby's was the go-to place other than the Harvelles' Bar, of course. The new house was now a home to Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, Pamela, Cas, Sam, Jessica and now Dean. And anyone passing through that stumbled upon the place.  
It was more perfect than Dean could have ever imagined. Just seeing his family again, after so long and after everything he'd been through, was enough to have him break down in tears on the doorstep.  
Cas had been the first to comfort him with a very strong hug and soothing words, after he yelled in a panic for Sam and Bobby.  
The brother and surrogate father came sprinting to the door to find Dean in hysterics, joining in with the water works.  
Sniffing, Dean laughed "This is like some crappy chick flick," to which, none of the men responded.  
Sam barely left Dean out of his sight for the next month, insisting they did pretty much everything together, including normal things they hadn't the time to do when their full-time occupation was hunting. Like going to the movies, going fishing. They even went to a NASCAR race together, with Cas tagging along. Admittedly, the loud engines terrified Castiel, but Dean was always at hand to comfort and explain that the gas-guzzlers weren't really scary. Sam found it sweet.  
Of course, Sam now spent a lot of time with Jessica too. Dean had never seen his little brother so happy, which of course, made him happy. Bobby and Ellen were planning their wedding and Bobby just couldn't wait for Dean's arrival for the proposal. Jo had been keeping busy, working to find anyone causing trouble in paradise. She was doing a great job too, with only a little help from Ash. Pamela and Ash had been together since Dean and Sam had seen them at Harvelle's during their last visit.  
Whether it had happened gradually, or whether it had always been there and was only just now being noticed, Cas and Dean had become an item. Neither of them truly thought about it until Sam mentioned that he had seen Dean pecking Cas on the cheek when they were heading back in to the house after Dean had started teaching Cas about his baby's engine.  
"What? Nah, I mean-" Dean glanced at Cas, suddenly taking every feature about the man in. Well I guess... Maybe, I-" Cas was wearing Dean's favourite Led Zeppelin t-shirt with his jeans and his necklace on. Upon his arrival, he'd learned that the day Dean had thrown his god-locator in the trash, Cas had zapped back to the motel room and had kept it since. "I haven't taken it off," Cas had said shyly.  
Dean had no clue how to react, and shifted, twiddling his thumbs. "Why?"  
Cas shrugged and looked down, unsure of if he'd upset Dean.  
"I ah-" Dean struggled to pull the bottle on the chain up from under his t-shirt. "This belongs to you." He walked up to Cas, with the ex-angel's grace in the bottle in the palm of his hand.  
Castiel looked at it in awe, and grabbed Dean's arm as he went to remove the chain from his neck. "Stop."  
Dean did just that and looked at Cas, unsure of what to say.  
"Keep it."  
The hunter looked at his angel, incredulous. "Why, exactly?"  
"I kept this," he indicated at the mask-like pendant, "for a very long time, and it belongs to you. It was very important to you. My grace is incredibly important to me, and I'd like you to keep it."  
Stunned, Dean rocked back on his heels and allowed the bottle to fall to rest against his chest. He paused and after thinking of the best way to word his thoughts. "I'd like that. But only if you agree to wear mine."  
Cas' face lit up in a childish smile of pure happiness. "I would like that."  
It seemed that since then they'd been pretty inseparable. 

***

"Dean, can I talk to you?"  
"Sure thing, Sammy," Dean grinned.  
"I'm worried." Sam sat down at the kitchen table at Bobby's opposite Dean.  
"'Bout what?" Dean put down his coffee cup on a coaster and laid the newspaper flat on the mahogany between them.  
"It's gonna sound crazy, alright? Like even for us crazy." The taller Winchester shifted uncomfortably under the stare of his brother. Dean didn't reply, just nodded his acknowledgement. "'Kay then, well ah- I think I heard someone calling my name."  
Dean raised his eyebrows and squinted his eyes. "When?"  
"When I was out. Jess and I went into town and we were just talking in the middle of this coffee house, and I swear I heard a familiar voice yelling at me. Couldn't see anyone I knew in or around the place."  
Dean considered it. "Probably just imagined it, dude." He couldn't think of anything other than Sam's mind playing tricks on him. "Don't worry about it. Happens a lot."  
Sam nodded and stood, awkwardly scraping the chair back under the table.  
"But," Dean said to Sam, "you let me know if it happens again."  
"You got it."  
It didn't happen again, for a long time. And that time, it was one of Sam's college buddies.

***

Bobby has suggested that since they were now in Heaven, that Castiel should start teaching them some common phrases in Enochian. So he happily obliged.  
"Try again."  
"Cas, come on!"  
Castiel put his hands on Dean's cheeks and pulled his face down to his own. He pecked Dean on the mouth and repeated "Try again," with a smile.  
Dean sighed, and slowly said "Oh-lan-ee ha-wa-"  
"No."  
Dean glared at Cas. "I'm trying!"  
Still smiling, Cas said "Again."  
"Oh-lan-ee he-wa-"  
"Nope."  
"Can you at least repeat it for me, please?"  
Cas tilted his head to the side slightly and said "Olani hoath ol."  
Dean smiled and said "Oh-lan-ee ho-ath ol."  
Cas grinned a great smile, making his eyes sparkle. "Say it again?"  
Dean yelled it. "Olani hoath ol! Castiel, olani hoath ol!" He walked to Cas and kissed him, hugging his back.  
Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, but pulled back from the kiss for a few seconds to say "I love you too, Dean."

***

The months had now stretched into years for the motley crew, leaving them with seemingly endless fond memories. After Bobby and Ellen's wedding, Benny moved into Bobby's when the newly betrothed headed off on their honeymoon. It had been perfection to say the least, and nothing could be better. Until this exact Sunday, that is.  
It had started out like any of their other weekends. They all had long lie-ins, and Sam awoke to the smell of Dean cooking bacon and sausage for their breakfast.  
Walking into the kitchen in his dressing gown, bleary eyed, Sam made a beeline for the coffee pot. With a yawn, he said "mornin'."  
Dean turned around with a big grin. "Hey! You alright?"  
Sam nodded. "You want some?"  
"Please."  
_Sam.  
_"Yeah?"  
Dean turned to look at Sam. "Yeah, coffee please."  
"Thought you said my name."  
"Nope." Dean turned back to focus on the bacon to ensure he wasn't going to burn it. "You want yours in a roll or want a full breakfast?"  
Running a hand down his face, Sam said "I'll just have it in-"  
_Sammy.  
_He paused. "In a ah- In a roll."  
"Sure."  
_Sam!  
_"Why do you keep saying my name?"  
Now looking back at Sam, Dean turned his whole body to face his brother. "I'm not."  
"No, no you definitely said 'Sammy'."  
"When?!"  
"Just now, when you were checking on the bacon."  
_SAMMY!  
_Sam flinched at the yell. "Didn't you hear that?!"  
"No!" Dean walked over to Sam and put his hands on his shoulders, looking into the other's eyes. "You feeling okay?"  
"No, Dean, I'm not."  
"Sit down, come on." The older Winchester pulled the younger to the table and gently pushed him down onto it. "I'ma get you some water."  
_SAMMY WAKE UP!  
_Sam's eyes began to drift shut. "D- Dean..."  
"Sam?! Come on, buddy, stay with me."  
_COME ON, SAM!  
_"Need to wake up," Sam mumbled.  
"You are awake," Dean panicked.  
_SAAAAAAAAAM!  
_As hard as he tried to keep his eyelids open, they suddenly seemed too heavy. They slid shut and Sam fell into oblivion.

***

"Sammy, wake up!"  
The younger Winchester jerked awake and sat up quickly, almost hitting his head on the dashboard of the Impala. "Jeez..."  
"You okay, man?"  
He didn't reply for a few seconds as he was stunned. "Wh- no. No I'm not." Sam rubbed his forehead with his hand and flopped back into the seat as he closed his eyes. "Can you pull over?"  
"We're about a mile from the motel."  
"What?!"  
Dean looked at Sam and then to the road and back as he spoke. "We're about three miles from the motel. Wait 'til then if you gotta pee."  
"What day is it?"  
"Sunday, Sammy."  
Seeming impatient, the younger Winchester asked quickly "The date, what's the date?"  
"Are you feeling alright?" The older brother's concerned gaze flickered between his sibling and the road again.  
"What's the date?!"  
"Sixteenth of November, 2006."  
"Oh my God."  
Dean could see that Sam was scared, but he didn't know why. "What's wrong, dude?"  
Sam paused, unsure. "You know I had those premonitions before? Like the vision things?"  
Dean tensed, gripping the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. "You have another one?"  
"Y- Yeah, I guess."  
Dean slowed and pulled into the parking lot outside their motel. He parked directly outside their room and turned off the engine. Turning to look at Sam, he asked "what happened?"  
Sam shifted to look directly at Dean, Sam's eyes widened slightly. "I think I had a premonition of the next eight years."  
"What?!"


End file.
